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There let the shepherds flute, the virgin's layi 
Still sing the God of Seasons t as they roll !— 



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HYMN. 



THE 



SEASONS, 



JAMES THOMPSON, 



TO WHICH IS PREFIXED 



THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR, 



BY P. MURDOCK, D. D. F. R. S. 



HARTFORD . 
PUBLISHED BY SILAS ANDRUS, 
1829 



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TOANSFBR 
#, 0, PUBLIC LIBBABY 
SEPT. 10, 1 40 



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ACCOUNT 



OF THE 



LIFE AND WRITINGS 



OF 



MR. JAMES THOMSON 



IT is commonly said, that the life of a good writer is 
best read in his works ; which can scarce fail to re- 
ceive a peculiar tincture from his temper, manners, and 
habits : the distinguishing character of his mind, his rul- 
ing passion, at least, will there appear undisguised. But 
however just this observation maybe, and although we 
might safely rest Mr. Thomson's fame, as a good man, 
as well as a man of genius, on this sole footing ; yet the 
desire which the public always show of being more par- 
ticularly acquainted with the history of an eminent au- 
thor, ought not to be disappointed ; as it proceeds not 
from mere curiosity, but chiefly from affection and gra- 
titude, to those by whom they have been entertained and 
instructed. 

To give some account of a deceased friend is often a 
piere of justice likewise, which ought not to be refused 
to his memory ; to prevent or efface the impertinent fic- 
tions which officious biographers are so apt to collect 
and propagate. And we may add, that the circum- 
stances of an author's life will sometimes throw the best 
light upon his writings ; instances whereof we shall 
meet with in the following pages. 

Mr. Thomson was born at Ednam, in (he shire of 
Roxburgh, on the eleventh of September, in the year 



4 » THE LIFE OF ■ 

1700. His father, minister pf that place, was but little 
known beyond the narrow circle of his co-presbyters, 
* and to a few gentlemen in the neighbourhood ; but high- 
ly respected by them, for his piety, and his diligence in 
the pastoral duty : as appeared afterwards, in their kind 
offices to his widow and orphan family. 

The reverend Messrs. Riccarton and Gusthart par- 
ticularly took a most affectionate and friendly part in all 
their concerns. The former, a man of uncommon pene- 
tration and good taste, had very early discovered, through 
the rudeness of young Thomson's puerile essays, a 
fund of genius well deserving culture and encourage- 
ment. He undertook, therefore, with the father's ap- 
probation, the chief direction of his studies, furnished 
him with the proper books, corrected his performances ; 
and was daily rewarded with the pleasure of seeing his 
labour so happily employed. 

The other reverend gentleman, Mr. Gusthart, who 
is still living (1762,) one of the ministers of Edinburgh, 
and senior of the Chapel Royal, was no less service- 
able to Mrs. Thomson in the management of her little 
affairs ; which, after the decease of her husband, bur- 
dened as she was with a family of nine children, re- 
quired the prudent counsels and assistance of that faith- 
ful and generous friend. 

Sir William Bennet likewise, well known for his gay 
humour and ready poetical wit, was highly delighted 
with our young poet, and used to invite him to pass the 
summer vacation at his country-seat: a scene of life 
which Mr. Thomson always remembered with particu- 
lar pleasure. But what he wrote during that time, 
either to entertain Sir William and Mr. Riccarton, or 
for his own amusement, he destroyed every new-year's 
day; committing his little pieces to the flames, in their 
due order; and crowning the solemnity with a copy of 
verses, in which were humorously recited the several 
grounds of their condemnation. 

After the usual course of school education, under an 
able master at Jedburgh, Mr. Thomson was sent to the 
university of Edinburgh. But in the second year of 
his admission, his studies were for sometime interrupt- 
ed by the death of his father ; who was carried off so 



MR. JAMES THOMSON. 6 

suddenly, that it was not possible for Mr. Thomson, 
with all the diligence he could use, to receive his last 
blessing- This affected him to an uncommon degree ; 
and his relations still remember some extraordinary in- 
stances of his grief and filial duty on that occasion. 

Mis. Thomson, whose maiden name was Hume, and 
who was co-heiress of a small estate in the country, did 
not sink under this misfortune. She consulted the 
friend, Mr. Gusthart : and having, by his advice, mort- 
gaged her moiety of the farm, repaired with her family 
to Edinburgh ; where she lived in a decent frugal man- 
ner, till her favourite son had not only finished his aca- 
demical course, but was even distinguished and patro- 
nised as a man of genius. She was, herself, a person 
of uncommon natural endowments; possessed of every 
social and domestic virtue ; with an imagination, for 
vivacity and warmth, scarce inferior to her son's, and 
which raised her devotional exercises to a pitch border- 
ing on enthusiasm. 

But whatever advantage Mr. Thomson might derive 
from the complexion of his parent, it is certain he owed 
much to a religious education ; and that his early ac- 
quaintance with the sacred writings contributed greatly 
to that sublime, by which his works will be for ever dis- 
tinguished. In his first pieces, the Seasons, we see him 
at once assume the majestic freedom of an Eastern 
writer; seizing the grand images as they rise, clothing 
them in his own expressive language, and preserving, 
throughout, the grace, the variety, and the dignity, which 
belong to a just composition; unhurt by the stiffness of 
formal method. 

About this time, the study of poetry was become ge- 
neral in Scotland, the best English authors being uni- 
versally read, and imitations of them attempted. Ad- 
dison had lately displayed the beauties of Milton's im- 
mortal work ; and his remarks on it, together with Mr. 
Pope's celebrated Essay, had opened the way to an ac- 
quaintance with the best poets and critics* 

But the most learned critic is not always the best 
judge of poetry; taste being a gift of nature, the want 
of which Aristotle and Bossu cannot supply ; nor even 
the study of the best originals, when the reader's facul- 



THE LIFE OF 

ties are not tuned in a certain consonance to those of the 
poet ; and this happened to be the case with certain 
learned gentlemen, into whose hands a few of Mr. 
Thomson's first essays had fallen. Some inaccuracies 
of style, and those luxuriances which a young writer 
can hardly avoid, lay open to their cavils and censure : 
so far, indeed, they might be competent judges ; but 
the fire and enthusiasm of the poet had entirely escaped 
their notice. Mr. Thomson, however, conscious of his 
own strength, was not discouraged by this treatment: 
especially as he had some friends on whose judgment 
he could better rely, and who thought very differently 
of his performances. Only from that time, he began to 
turn his views towards London; where works of genius 
may always expect a candid reception and due encou- 
ragement; and an accident soon after entirely determin- 
ed him to try his fortune there. 

The divinity chair at Edinburgh was then filled by 
the reverend and learned Mr. Hamilton; a -gentleman 
universally respected and beloved ; and who had parti- 
cularly endeared himself to the young divines under his 
care, by his kind offices, his candour, and affability. 
Our author had attended his lectures for about a year, 
when there was prescribed to him, for the subject of an 
exercise, a psalm, in which the power and majesty of 
God are celebrated. Of this psalm he gave a para- 
phrase and illustration, as the nature of the exercise 
required ; but in a style so highly poetical as surprised 
the w r hole audience. Mr. Hamilton, as his custom was, 
complimented the orator upon his performance, and 
pointed out to the students the most masterly striking 
parts of it ; but at last, turning to Mr. Thomson, he told 
him, smiling, that if he thought of being useful to the 
ministry, he must keep a stricter rein upon his imagina- 
tion, and express himself in language more intelligible 
to an ordinary congregation. 

This gave Mr. Thomson to understand, that his ex- 
pectations from the study of theology might be very 
precarious ; even though the church had been more his 
free choice than probably it was. So that having, soon 
after, received some encouragement from a lady of qua- 
lity, a friend of his mother's., then in London, he quick- 



MR. JAMES THOMSON. / 

ly prepared himself for his journey. And although this 
encouragement ended in nothing beneficial, it served for 
the pretext, to cover the imprudence of committing him- 
self to the wide world, unfriended and unpatronised, 
and with the slender stock of money he was then pos- 
sessed of. 

But his merit did not long lie concealed. Mr. Forbes, 
afterwards lord president of the session, then attending 
the service of parliament, having seen a specimen of 
Mr. Thomson's poetry in Scotland, received him very 
kindly, and recommended him to some of his friends : 
particularly to Mr. Aikman, who lived in great intimacy 
with many persons of distinguished rank and worth. 
This gentleman, from a connoisseur in painting, was 
become a professed painter; and his taste being no less 
just and delicate in the kindred art of descriptive poe- 
try, than in his own, no wonder that he soon conceived 
a friendship for our author. What a warm return he 
met with, and how Mr. Thomson was affected by his 
friend's premature death, appears in the copy of verses 
which he wrote on that occasion. 

In the mean time, our author's reception, wherever he 
was introduced, emboldened him to risk the publication 
of his Winter: in which, as himself was a mere novice 
in such matters, he was kindly assisted by Mr. Mallet, 
then private tutor to his grace the Duke of Montrose, and 
his brother the Lord George Graham, so well known af- 
terwards as an able and gallant sea-officer. To Mr. 
Mallet he likewise owed his first acquaintance with 
several of the wits of that time ; an exact information 
of their characters, personal and poetical, and how they 
stood affected to each other. 

The poem of Winter, published in March 1726, was 
no sooner read than universally admired ; those only ex- 
cepted who had not been used to feel, or to look for, any 
thing in poetry, beyond a point of satirical or epigram- 
matic wit, a smart antithesis richly trimmed with rhyme, 
manly classical spirit could not easily recommend itself; 
or the softness of an elegiac complaint. To such, his 
till after a more attentive perusal they had got the bet- 
ter of their prejudices, and either acquired or affected a 
truer taste, A few others stood aloof, merely because 



5 THE LIFE OF 

they had long before fixed the articles of their poetical 
creed, and resigned themselves to an absolute despair 
of ever seeing any thing new and original. These were 
somewhat mortified to find their notions disturbed by 
the appearance of a poet who seemed to owe nothing 
but to nature and his own genius. But in a short time, 
the applause became unanimous ; every one wondering 
how so many pictures, and pictures so familiar, should 
have moved them but faintly to what they felt in his de- 
scriptions. His digressions too, the overflowings of a 
tender, benevolent heart, charmed the reader no less ; 
leaving him in doubt, whether he should more admire 
the poet, or love the man. 

From that time, Mr. Thomson's acquaintance was 
courted b} 7 all men of taste ; and several ladies of high 
rank and distinction became his declared patronesses : 
the Countess of Hartford, Miss Drelincourt, afterwards 
Viscountess Primrose, Mrs. Stanley, anrl others. But 
the chief happiness which his Winter procured him was, 
that it brought him acquainted with Dr. Rundle, after- 
wards Lord Bishop of Derry : who, upon conversing 
with Mr. Thomson, and finding in him qualities 
greater still, and of more value, than those of a poet, re- 
ceived him into his intimate confidence and friendship: 
promoted his character every where ; introduced him to 
his great friend the Lord Chancellor Talbot ; and, some 
years after, when the oldest son of that nobleman was 
to make his tour of travelling, recommended Mr. Thom- 
son as a proper companion for him. His affection and 
gratitude to Dr. Rundle, and his indignation at the treat- 
ment that worthy prelate had met with, are finely ex- 
pressed in his poem to the memory of Lord Talbot. 
The true cause of that undeserved treatment has been 
secreted from the public, as well as the dark manoeuvres 
that were employed : but Mr. Thomson, who had ac- 
cess to the best information, places it to the account of 

Slanderous zeal, and politics infirm, 

Jealous of worth. 
Meanwhile, our poet's chief care had been, in return 
for the public favour, to finish the plan which their 
wishes laid out for him : and the expectations which his 






MR. JAMES THOMSON. I) 

Winter had raised, were fully satisfied by the succes- 
sive publication of the other Seasons : of Summer, in 
the year 1727 ; of Spring, in the beginning of the fol- 
lowing year ; and of Autumn, in a quarto edition of his 
works, printed in 1730. 

In that edition, the Seasons are placed in their natu- 
ral order ; and crowned with that inimitable Hymn, in 
which we view them in their beautiful succession, as 
one whole, the immediate effect of infinite Power and 
Goodness. In imitation of the Hebrew bard, all nature 
is called forth to do homage to the Creator, and the rea- 
der is left enraptured in silent adoration and praise. 

Besides these, and his tragedy of Sophonisba, writ- 
ten and acted with applause, in the year 1729, Mr. 
Thomson had in 1727, published his poem to the me- 
mory of Sir Isaac Newton, then lately deceased ; con- 
taining a deserved encomium of that incomparable man, 
with an account of his chief discoveries ; sublimely 
poetical ; and yet so just, that an ingenious foreigner, 
the Count Algarotti, takes a line of it for the text of his 
philosophical dialogues, R Neutoyiianismo per le dame : 
this was in part owing to the assistance he had of his 
friend Mr. Gray, a gentleman well versed in the New- 
tonian philosophy, who, on that occasion, gave him a 
very exact, though general, abstract of its principles. 

That same year, the resentment of our merchants, 
for the interruption of their trade by the Spaniards in 
America, running very high, Mr. Thomson zealously 
took part in it ; and wrote his poem Britannia, to rouse 
the nation to revenge. And although this piece is the 
less read that its subject was but accidental and tempo- 
rary, the spirited generous sentiments that enrich it, can 
never be out of season : they will at least remain a mo- 
nument of that love of his country, that devotion to the 
public, which he is ever inculcating as the perfection of 
virtue, and which none ever felt more pure, or more in- 
tense, than himself. 

Our author's poetical studies were now to be inter- 
rupted, or rather improved, by his attendance on the 
honourable Mr. Charles Talbot in his travels. A de- 
lightful task indeed ! endowed as that young nobleman 
was by nature, and accomplished by the care and ex- 



10 THE LIFE OF 

ample of the best of fathers, in whatever could adorn 
humanity : graceful of person, elegant in manners and 
address ; pious, humane, generous, with an exquisite 
taste in all the finer arts. 

With this amiable companion and friend, Mr. Thom- 
son visited most of the courts and capital cities of Eu- 
rope ; and returned with his views greatly enlarged ; 
not of exterior nature only, and the works of art, but of 
human life and manners, of the constitution and policy 
of the several states, their connexions, and their reli- 
gious institutions. How particular and judicious his 
observations were, we see in his poem of Liberty, be* 
gun soon after his return to England. We see, at the 
same time, to what a high pitch his love of his country 
was raised, by the comparisons he had all along been 
making of our happy well-poised government with those 
of other nations. To inspire his fellow-subjects with 
the like sentiments, and to show them by what means 
the precious freedom we enjoy may be preserved and 
how it may be abused or lost, he employed two years 
of his life in composing that noble work : upon which, 
conscious of the importance and dignity of the sub- 
ject, he valued himself more than upon all his other 
Writings. 

While Mr. Thomson was writing his first part of Li- 
berty, he received a severe shock, by the death of his 
noble friend and fellow-traveller : which was soon fol- 
lowed by another that was severer still, and of more 
general concern ; the death of Lord Talbot himself; 
which Mr. Thomson so pathetically and so justly la- 
ments in the poem dedicated to his memory. In him 
the nation saw itself deprived of an uncorrupted patriot, 
the faithful guardian of their rights, on whose wisdom 
and integrity they had founded their hopes of relief 
from many tedious vexations : and Mr. Thomson, be- 
sides his share in the general mourning, had to bear all 
the affliction which a heart like his could feel, for the 
person whom, of all mankind, he most revered and 
loved. At the same time, he found himself, from an 
easy competency, reduced to a state of precarious de- 
pendence, in which he passed the remainder of his life; 
excepting only the two last years of it. during which he 



MR. JAMES THOMSON. 11 

enjoyed the place of surveyor-general of the Leeward 
Islands, procured for him by the generous friendship of 
Lord Lyttleton. 

Immediately upon his return to England with Mr. 
Talbot, the chancellor had made him his secretary of 
briefs ; a place of little attendance, suiting his retired 
indolent way of life, and equal to all his wants. This 
place fell with his patron ; and although the noble lord 
who succeeded to Lord Talbot in office, kept it vacant 
for some time, probably till Mr. Thomson should apply 
for it, he was so dispirited, and so listless to every con- 
cern of that kind, that he never took one step in the af- 
fair : a neglect which his best friends greatly blamed in 
him. 

Yet could not his genius be depressed, or his temper 
hurt, by this reverse of fortune. He resumed, with 
time, his usual cheerfulness, and never abated one ar- 
ticle in his way of living ; which, though simple, was 
genial and elegant. The profits arising from his works 
were not inconsiderable : his tragedy of Agamemnon, 
acted in 1738, yielded a good sum : Mr. Miller was al- 
ways at hand, to answer, or even to prevent, his de- 
mands ; and he had a friend or two besides, whose hearts, 
he knew, were not contracted by the ample fortunes they 
had acquired ; who would, of themselves, interpose, if 
they saw any occasion for it. 

But his chief dependence, during this long interval, 
was on the protection and bounty of his royal highness 
Frederic Prince of Wales ; who, upon the recommen- 
dation of Lord Lyttleton, then his chief favourite, set- 
tled on him a handsome allowance. And afterwards, 
when he was introduced to his royal highness, that ex- 
cellent prince, who truly was what Mr. Thomson paints 
him, the friend of mankind and of merit, received him 
very graciously, and ever after honoured him with many 
marks of particular favour and confidence. A circum- 
stance, which does equal honour to the patron and the 
poet, ought not here to be omitted ; that my Lord Lyt- 
tleton's recommendation came altogether unsolicited, 
and long before Mr. Thomson was personally known to 
him. 



12 THE LIFE OP 

It happened, however, that the favour of his royal 
highness was in one instance of some prejudice to our 
author ; in the refusal of a license for his tragedy of 
Edward and Eleonora, which he had prepared for the 
stage in the year 1739. The reader may see that this 
play contains not a line which could justly give offence ; 
but the ministry, still sore from certain pasquinades, 
which had lately produced the stage-act; and. as little 
satisfied with some part of the prince's political con- 
duct, as he was with their management of the public 
affairs; would not risk the representation of a piece 
written under his eye, and they might probably think, 
by his command. 

This refusal drew after it another; and in a way 
which, as it is related, was rather ludicrous. Mr. 
Paterson, a companion of Mr. Thomson, afterwards his 
deputy and then his successor, in the general-surveyor- 
ship, used to write out fair copies for his friend, when 
such were wanted for the press or for the stage. This 
gentleman likewise courted the tragic muse ; and had 
taken for his subject the story of Arminius the German 
hero. But his play, guiltless as it was, being presented 
for a license ; no sooner had the censor cast his eyes on 
the hand-writing in which he had seen Edward and 
Eleonora, than he cried out, " Away with it !" and the 
author's profits were reduced to what his bookseller 
could afford for a tragedy in distress. 

Mr. Thomson's next dramatic performance was the 
masque of Alfred ; written, jointly with Mr. Mallet, by 
command of the Prince of Wales, for the entertainment 
of his royal highness's court, at his summer-residence. 
This piece, with some alterations, and the music new, 
has been since brought upon the stage by Mr. Mallet : 
it was originally acted at Clifden, in the year 1740, on 
the birth-day of her royal highness the Princess Au- 
gusta. 

In the year 1745, hi9 Tancred and Sigismunda, taken 
from the novel in Gil Bias, was performed with ap- 
plause ; and from the deep romantic distress of the 
lovers, continues to draw crowded houses. The suc- 
cess of this piece was indeed insured from the first by 



MR. JAMES THOMSON. 13 

Mr. Garrick and Mrs. Cibber, they appearing in the 
principal characters ; which they heightened and adorn 
ed with all the magic of their never-Tailing art. 

He had, in the mean time, been finishing his Castle 
of Indolence, in two cantos. It was, at first, little more 
than a few detached stanzas, in the way of raillery on 
himself, and on some of his friends, who would reproach 
him with indolence, while he thought them at least, as 
indolent as himself. But he saw very soon, that the sub 
ject deserved to be treated more seriously, and in a 
form fitted to convey one of the most important moral 
lessons. 

The stanza which he uses in this work is that of 
Spencer, borrowed from the Italian poets ; in which he 
thought rhymes had their proper place, and were even 
graceful : the compass of the stanza admitting an agree- 
able variety of final sounds : while the sense of the poet 
is not cramped or cut short, nor yet too much dilated ; 
as must often happen, when it is parcelled out into 
rhymed couplets ; the usual measure indeed of our 
elegy and satire, but which always weakens the higher 
poetry, and, to a true ear, will sometimes give it an air 
of the burlesque. 

This *vas the last piece Mr. Thomson himself pub- 
lished ; his tragedy of Coriolanus being only prepared 
for the theatre, when a fatal accident robbed the world 
of one of the best of men, and best poets, that lived 
in it. 

He had always been a timorous horseman ; and more 
so, in a road where numbers of giddy or unskilful ri- 
ders are continually passing ; so that, when the weather 
did not invite him to go by water, he would commonly 
walk the distance between London and Richmond, with 
any acquaintance that offered; with whom he might 
chat and rest himself, or perhaps dine, by the way. One 
summer evening, being alone, in his walk from town to 
Hammersmith, he had overheated himself, and, in that 
condition, imprudently took a boat to carry him to Kew ; 
apprehending no bad consequence from the chill air on 
the river, which his walk to his house, at the upper end 
of Kew lane, had always hitherto prevented. But now 
the cold had so seized him, that nest day he found him- 



14 THE LIFE OF 

6elf in a high fever, so much the more to be dreaded 
that he was of a full habit. This, however, by the use 
of proper medicines, was removed, so that he was 
thought to be out of danger : till the fine weather hav- 
ing tempted him to expose himself once more to the 
evening dews, his fever returned with violence, and with 
such symptoms as left no hopes of a cure. Two days 
had passed before his relapse was known in town ; at 
last, Mr. Mitchell and Mr. Reid, with Dr. Armstrong, 
being informed of it, posted out at midnight to his as- 
sistance : but, alas ! came only to endure a sight of all 
others the most shocking to nature, the last agonies of 
their beloved friend. This lamented death happened 
on the 27th day of August, 174S. 

His testamentary executors were, the Lord Lyttleton, 
whose care of our poet's fortune and fame ceased not 
with his life ; and Mr. Mitchell, a gentleman equally 
noted for the truth and constancy of his private friend- 
ships, and for his address and spirit as a public minis- 
ter. By their united interest, the orphan play of Corio- 
lanus was brought on the stage to the best advantage : 
from the profits of which, and the sale of manuscripts, 
and other effects, all demands were duly satisfied, and a 
handsome sum remitted to his sisters. My Lord Lit- 
tleton's prologue to this piece was admired as one of the 
best that had ever been written ; the best spoken it cer- 
tainly was. The sympathising audience saw that then, 
indeed, Mr. Quin was no actor ; that the tears he shed 
were those of real friendship and grief. 

Mr. Thomson's remains were deposited in the church 
of Richmond, under a plain stone, without any inscrip- 
tion ; nor did his brother-poets, at all exert themselves 
on the occasion, as they had lately done for one who had 
been the terror of poets all his lifetime. This silence 
furnished matter to one of his friends for an excellent 
satirical epigram, which we are sorry we cannot give 
the reader. Only one gentleman, Mr. Collins, who had 
lived some time at Richmond, but forsook it when Mr. 
Thomson died, wrote an ode to his memory. This for 
the dirge-like melancholy it breathes, and the warmth of 
affection that seems to have dictated it, we shall subjoir* 
to the present account. 



MR. JAMES THOMSON. 15 

Our author himself hints, somewhere in his works, 
that his exterior was not the most promising : his make 
being rather robust than graceful ; though it is known 
that in his youth he had been thought handsome. His 
worst appearance was, when you saw him walking 
alone, in a thoughtful mood : but let a friend accost 
him, and enter into conversation, he would instantly 
brighten into a most amiable aspect, his features no 
longer the same, and his eye darting a peculiar anima- 
ted fire. The case was much alike in company ; where, 
if it was mixed, or very numerous, he made but an in- 
different figure : but with a few select friends, he was 
open, sprightly, and entertaining. His wit flowed freely, 
but pertinently, and at due intervals leaving room for 
every one to contribute his share. Such was his ex- 
treme sensibility, so perfect the harmony of his organs 
with the sentiments of his mind, that his looks always 
announced, and half expressed, what he was about to 
say ; and his voice corresponded exactly to the manner 
and degree in which he was affected. This sensibility 
had one inconvenience attending it, that it rendered him 
the very worst reader of good poetry : a sonnet or a 
copy of tame verses, he could manage pretty well ; or 
even improve them in the reading : but a passage of 
Virgil, Milton, or Shakspeare, would sometimes quite 
oppress him, that you could hear little else than some 
ill- articulated sounds, rising as from the bottom of his 
breast. 

He had improved his taste upon the best originals, 
ancient and modern : but could not bear to write what 
was not strictly his own, what had not more immediately 
struck his imagination, or touched his heart: so that lie 
is not in the least concerned in that question about the 
merit or demerit of imitators. What he borrows from 
the ancients, he gives us in an avowed faithful para- 
phrase or translation ; as we see in a few passages taken 
from Virgil, and in that beautiful picture from Pliny the 
elder, where the course and gradual increase of the 
Nile are figured by the stages of man's life. 

The autumn was his favourite season for poetical 
composition, and the deep silence of the night, the time 
he commonly chose for such studies ; so that he would 



16 THE LIFE OF 

often be heard walking in his library, till near morning, 
humming over, in his way, what be was to correct and 
write out next day. 

The amusements of his leisure hours were civil and 
natural history, voyages, and the relations of travellers, 
the most authentic he could procure : and, had his situ- 
ation favoured it, he would certainly have excelled in 
gardening, agriculture, and every rural improvement 
and exercise. Although he performed on no instru- 
ment, he was passionately fond of music, and would 
sometimes listen a full hour at his window to the night- 
ingales in Richmond Gardens. While abroad he had 
been greatly delighted with the regular Italian drama, 
such as Metastasio writes ; as it is there heightened by 
the charms of the best voices and instruments; and 
looked upon our theatrical entertainments, as in one re- 
spect, naked and imperfect when compared with the an- 
cient, or with those of Italy ; wishing so< imes that a 
chorus, at least, and a better recitative, ctjuid be intro- 
duced. 

Nor was his taste less exquisite in the arts of paint- 
ing, sculpture, and architecture. In his travels he had 
seen all the most celebrated monuments of antiquity, 
and the best productions of modern art ; and studied 
them so minutely, and with so true a judgment, that in 
some of his descriptions, in the poem of Liberty, we 
have the master-pieces there mentioned placed in a 
stronger light perhaps than if we saw them with our 
eyes: at least more justly delineated than in any other 
account extant: so superior is a natural taste of the 
grand and beautiful, to the traditional lessons of a com- 
mon virtuoso. His collection of prints, and some draw- 
ings from the antique are now in the possession of his 
friend Mr. Gray, of Richmond Hill. 

As for his more distinguishing qualities of mind and 
heart, they are better represented in his writings than 
they can be by the pen of any biographer. There, his 
love of mankind, of his country and friends, his devotion 
to the Supreme Being, founded on the most elevated and 
just conceptions of his operations and providence, shine 
out in every page. So unbounded was his tenderness 
of heart, that it took in even the brute creation : judge 



MR. JAMES THOMSONS. IT 

what it must have been towards his own species. He 
is not indeed known, through his whole life, to have 
given any person one moment's pain, by his writings or 
otherwise. He took no part in the poetical squabbles 
which happened in his time ; and was respected and 
left undisturbed by both sides. He would even refuse 
to take offence when he justly might ; by interrupting 
any personal story that was brought him, with some 
jest, or some humorous apology for the offender. Nor 
was he ever seen ruffled or discomposed, but when he 
read or heard of some flagrant instance of injustice, 
oppression, or cruelty : then indeed Ihe strongest marks 
of horror and indignation were visible in his counte- 
nance. 

These amiable virtues, this divine temper of mind, 
did not fail of their due reward. His friends loved 
him with an enthusiastic ardour, and lamented his un- 
timely fate in the manner that, is still fresh in every 
one's memory ; the best and greatest men of his time 
honoured him with (heir friendship and protection ; the 
applause of the public attended every appearance he 
made ; the actors, of whom the more eminent were his 
friends and admirers, grudging no pains to do justice to 
his tragedies. At present, indeed, if we except Tan- 
cred, they are seldom called for ; the simplicity of his 
plots, and the models he worked after, not suiting the 
reigning taste, nor the impatience of an English theatre. 
They may hereafter come to be in vogue ; but we ha- 
zard no conjecture upon them, or upon any part of Mr. 
Thomson's works ; neither need they any defence or 
apology, after the reception they have had at home, and 
the foreign languages into which they have been trans- 
lated. We shall only say, that, to judge from the imi- 
tations of his manner, which have been following him 
close from the very first publication of Winter, he 
seems to have fixed no inconsiderable era of the Eng- 
lish poetry. 



ODE 

ON THE 

DEATH OF MR. THOMSON, 

BY MR. COLLINS. 



[The scene of the following stanzas is supposed to lie on 
the Thames, near Richmond.'] 

In yonder grave a druid lies, 

Where slowly winds the stealing wave : 

The year's best sweets shall duteous rise 
To deck its poet's sylvan grave. 

In yon deep bed of whispering reeds 

His airy harp* shall now be laid, 
That he whose heart in sorrow bleeds, 

May love through life the soothing shade. 

Then maids and youths shall linger here, 
And while its sounds at distance swell, 

Shall sadly seem, in Pity's ear, 

To hear the woodland pilgrim's knell. 

Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore 

When Thames in summer-wreaths is drest, 

And oft suspend the dashing oar, 
To bid his gentle spirit rest: 

* The harp of ^Eolus, of which see a description in the Castle of In* 



ON THE DEATH OF MR. THOMSON. 19 

And oft as Ease and Health retire r 

To breezy lawn, or forest deep, 
The friend shall view yon whitening spire,* 

And 'mid the varied landscape weep. 

But thou, who ownest that earthy bed, 

Ah ! what will every dirge avail ; 
Or tears, which love and pity shed, 

That mourn beneath the gliding sail ? 

Yet lives there one, whose heedless eye 

Shall scorn thy pale shrine glimmering near ? 

With him, sweet bard, may fancy die, 
And joy desert the blooming year. 

But thou, lorn stream, whose sullen tide 
No sedge-crowned sisters now attend, 

Now waft me from the green hills side 
Whose cold turf hides the buried friend. 

And see ! the fairy valleys fade ; 

Dun night has veiled the solemn view : 
Yet once again, dear parted shade, 

Meek Nature's child, again adieu ! 

The genial meads assigned to bless 
Thy life, shall mourn thy early doom : 

Their hinds and shepherd-girls shall dress, 
With simple hands, thy rural tomb. 

Long, lonff, thy stone, and pointed clay, 
Shall melt the musing Briton's eyes ; 

O ! vales, and wild woods, shall he say, 
In yonder grave your druid lies.' 

* Richmond Church. 



THE SEASONS 



SPRING, 



THE ARGUMENT. 

The subject proposed. Inscribed to the Countess of Hertford. 
The season is described as it affects the various parts of Nature, 
ascending from the lower to the higher, with digressions arising 
from the subject. Its influence on inanimate matter. On vege- 
tables. On brute animals. And last on man. Concluding with 
a dissuasive from the wild and irregular passion of love, opposed 
to that of a pure and happy kind. 




together let us tread 



Tbe morning dews, and gather iu their prime 
Fresh blooming flowers, to grace thy braided hair. 



SPRING. 



SPRING. 



Come, gentle Spring ! ethereal Mildness ! come ; 
And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud, 
While music wakes around, veil'd in a shower 
Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend. 

O Hertford, fitted or to shine in courts 
With unaffected grace, or walk the plain 
With innocence and meditation join'd 
In soft assemblage, listen to my song, 
Which thy own Season paints ; when Nature all 
Is blooming and benevolent, like thee. 

And see where surly Winter passes oft', 
Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts. 
His blasts obey, and quit the howling hill, 
The shatter'd forest, and the ravag'd vale ; 
While softer gales succeed, at whose kind touch, 
Dissolving snows in livid torrents lost, 
The mountains lift their green heads to the sky. 

As yet the trembling year is unconfirmed, 
And Winter oft at eve resumes the breeze, 
Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving sleets 
Deform the day delightless : so that scarce 
The bittern knows his time, with bill ingulf'd 
To shake the sounding marsh, or from the shore 
The plovers when to scatter o'er the heath, 
And sing their wild notes to the listening waste. 
At last from Aries rolls the bounteous sun, 
And the bright Bull receives him. Then no more 
Th' expansive atmosphere is cramp'd with cold ; 
But. full of life and vivifying soul 



24 SPRING. 

Lifts the light clouds sublime, and spreads them thin, 
Fleecy and white, o'er all-surrounding: heaven. 

Forth fly the tepid airs ! and, unconfin'd, 
Unbinding earth, the moving softness strays. 
Joyous, th' impatient husbandman perceives 
Relenting Nature, and his lusty steers 
Drives from their stalls, to where the well-us'd plough 
Lies in the furrow, loosen'd from the frost. 
There, unrefusing, to the harness'd yoke 
They lend their shoulder, and begin their toil, 
Cheer'd by the simple song and soaring lark. 
Meanwhile incumbent o'er the shining share 
The master leans, removes the obstructing clay, 
Wind* the whole work, and sidelong Jays the glebe 
While thro' the neigbb'ring fields the sower stalks, 
With measured step ; and liberal throws the grain 
Into the faithful bosom of the ground : 
The harrow follows harsh, an huts f he scene. 

Be gracious, Heaven ! for now laborious man 
Has done his part. Ye fostering breezes, blow ! 
Ye softening dews, ye tender showers, descend ! 
And temper all, thou world-reviving sun, 
Into the perfect year ! Nor ye who live 
In luxury and ease, in pomp and pride, 
Think these lost themes unworthy of your ear: 
Such themes as these the rural Maro sung 
To wide-imperial Rome in the full height 
Of elegance and taste, by Greece refin'd. 
In ancient times, the sacred plough employ'd 
The kings, and awful fathers of mankind : 
And some, with whom compar'd, your insect tribes 
Are but the beings of a summer's day, 
Have held the scale of empire, rul'd the storm 
Of mighty war ; then, with unwearied hand, 



SPRING. 25 

Disdaining little delicacies, seiz'd 

The plough, and greatly independent liv'd. 

Ye generous Britons, venerate the plough ! 
And o'er your hills, and long withdrawing vales, 
Let Autumn spread his treasures to the sun, 
Luxuriant and unbounded : as the sea, 
Far through his azure turbulent domain, 
Your empire owns, and from a thousand shores 
Wafts all the pomp of life into your ports ; 
So with superior boon may your rich soil, 
Exuberant, Nature's better blessings pour 
O'er every land; the naked nations clothe; 
And be th' exhaustless granary of a world. 

Nor only through the lenient air, this change 
Delicious breaths ; the penetrative sun, 
His force deep darting to the dark retreat 
Of vegetation, sets the streaming Power 
At large, to wander o'er the vernant earth, 
In various hues ; but chiefly thee, gay green ! 
Thou smiling Nature's universal robe ! 
United light and shade ' where the sight dwells 
With growing strength, and ever-new delight 
From the moist meadow to the wither'd hill, 
Led by the breeze, the vivid verdure runs, 
And swells, and deepens, to the cherish'd eye. 
The hawthorn whitens ; and the juicy groves 
Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees, 
Till the whole leafy forest stands display'd 
In full luxuriance, to the sighing gales, 
Where the deer rustle through the twining brake, 
And the birds sing conceal'd. At once array'd 
In all the colours of the flushing year, 
By Nature's swift and secret working hand, 
The garden glows, and fills the liberal air 
With lavish fragrance ; while the promis'd fruit 
3 



26 SPRING. 

Lies yet a little embryo, unperceiv'd, 

Within its crimson folds. Now from the town, 

Buried in smoke, and sleep, and noisome damps, 

Oft let me wander o'er the dewy fields, [drops 

Where freshness breathes, and dash the trembling 

From the bent bush, as through the verdant maze 

Of sweetbriar hedges I pursue my walk ; 

Or taste the smell of dairy ; or ascend 

Some eminence, Augusta, in thy plains, 

And see the country, far diffus'd around, 

One boundless blush, one white-empurpled shower 

Of mingled blossoms ; where the raptur'd eye 

Hurries from joy to joy, and, hid beneath 

The fair profusion, yellow Autumn spies : 

If, brush'd from Russian wilds, a cutting gale 
Rise not, and scatter from his humid wings 
The clammy mildew ; or, dry-blowing, breathe 
Untimely frost ; before whose baleful blast 
The full-blown Spring through all her foliage shrinks 3 
Joyless and dead, a wide-dejected waste. 
For oft, engender'd by the hazy north, 
Myriads on myriads, insect armies warp 
Keen in the poison'd breeze ; and wasteful eat, 
Through buds and bark, into the blacken'd core, 
Their eager way. A feeble race ! yet oft 
The sacred sons of vengeance ; on whose course 
Corrosive Famine waits, and kills the year. 
To check this plague, the skilful farmer, chaff 
And blazing straw, before his orchard burns 
Till, all involv'd in smoke, the latent foe 
From every cranny suffocated falls : 
Or scatters o'er the blooms the pungent dust 
Qf pepper, fatal to the frosty tribe : 
Or, when th' envenom'd leaf begins to curl, 
With sprinkled water drowns them in their nest ^ 



SPRING. Hi 

Nor, While they pick them up with busy bill. 
The little trooping birds unwisely scares. 

Be patient, swains ; these cruel seeming winds 
Blow not in vain. Far hence they keep repress'd 
Those deep'ning clouds on clouds, surcharg'd with rain, 
That o'er the vast Atlantic hither borne, 
In endless train, would quench the summer-blaze, 
And, cheerless, drown the crude unripen'd year. 

The north-east spends his rage ; he now shut up 
"Within his iron cave, the effusive south 
Warms the wide air, and o'er the void of heaven 
Breathes the big clouds with vernal showers distent. 
At first a dusky wreath they seem to rise, 
Scarce staining ether ; but by swift degrees, 
In heaps on heaps, the doubling vapour sails 
Along the loaded sky, and mingling deep, 
Sits on th' horizon round a settled gloom : 
Not such as wintry-storms on mortals shed s 
Oppressing life ; but lovely, gentle, kind. 
And full of every hope and every joy, 
The wish of Nature. Gradual sinks the breeze 
Into a perfect calm ; that not a breath 
Is heard to quiver through the closing woods, 
Or rustling turn the many-twinkling leaves 
Of aspin tall. Th' uncurling floods, diffus'd 
In glassy breadth, seem through delusive lapse 
Forgetful of their course. 'Tis silence all, 
And pleasing expectation. Herds and flocks 
Drop the dry sprig, and, mute-imploring, eye 
The falling verdure. Hush'd in short suspense^ 
The plumy people streak their wings with oil. 
To throw the lucid moisture trickling off, 
And wait th' approaching sign to strike, at once-, 
Into the general choir. E'en mountains, vales. 
And forests seem, impatient, to demand 



28 SPRING. 

The promis'd sweetness. Man superior walks 

Amid the glad creation, musing praise. 

And looking lively gratitude. At last, 

The clouds consign their treasures to the fields ; 

And, softly shaking on the dimpled pool 

Prelusive drops, let all their moisture flow, 

In large effusion, o'er the freshened world. 

The stealing shower is scarce to patter heard, 

By such as wander through the forest walks, 

Beneath th' umbrageous multitude of leaves. 

But who can hold the shade, while Heaven descends 

In universal bounty, shedding herbs, 

And fruits, and flowers, on Nature's ample lap ? 

Swift Fancy fir'd, anticipates their growth ; 

And, while the milky nutriment distils, 

Beholds the kindling country colour round. 

Thus all day long the full-distended clouds 
Indulge their genial stores, and well-shower'd earth 
Is deep enrich'd with vegetable life ; 
Till, in the western sky, the downward sun 
Looks out, effulgent, from amid the flush 
Of broken clouds, gay shifting to his beam. 
The rapid radiance instantaneous strikes 
Th' illumin'd mountain through the forest streams, 
Shakes on the floods, and in a yellow mist, 
Far smoking o'er th' interminable plain, 
In twinkling myriads lights the dewy gems. 
Moist, bright, and green, the landscape laughs around ; 
Full swell the woods ; their every music wakes, 
Mix'd in wild concert with the warbling brooks 
Increas'd, the distant bleatings of the hills, 
And hollow lows responsive from the vales, 
Whence blending all the sweeten'd zephyr springs. 
Meantime, refracted from yon eastern cloud, 
Bestriding earth, the grand ethereal bow 



SPRING. 



2i> 



Shoots up immense : and every hue unfolds, 

In fair proportion running from the red, 

To where the violet fades into the sky. 

Here, awful Newton ! the dissolving clouds 

Form, fronting on the sun, thy showery prism ; 

And to the sage-instructed eye unfold 

The various twine of light, by thee disclos'd 

From the white mingling maze. Not so the boy ; 

He wondering views the bright enchantment bend, 

Delightful, o'er the radiant fields, and runs 

To catch the falling glory; but amaz'd 

Beholds th' amusive arch before him fly, 

Then vanish quite away. Still night succeeds, 

A soften'd shade, and saturated earth 

Awaits the morning-beam, to give to light, 

Rais'd through ten thousand different plastic tubes., 

The balmy treasures of the former day. 

Then spring the living herbs, profusely wild, 
O'er all the deep-green earth, beyond the power 
Of botanists to number up their tribes : 
Whether he steals along the lonely dale, 
In silent search ; or through the forest, rank 
With what the dull incurious weeds account, 
Bursts his blind way ; or climbs the mountain rock> 
Fir'd by the nodding verdure of its brow. 
With such a liberal hand has Nature flung 
Their seeds abroad, blown them about in winds., 
Innumerous mixed them with the nursing mould., 
The moistening current, and prolific rain. 

But who their virtues can declare ? who pierce., 
With vision pure, into these secret stores 
Of health, and life, and joy ? The food of Man, 
While yet he lived in innocence, and told 
A length of golden years ; unflush'd in blood, 
A stranger to the savage arts of life 
$* 



30 SPRIxNG. 

Death, rapine, carnage, surfeit, and disease ; 

The lord, and not the tyrant, of the world. 

The first fresh dawn then wak'd the gladden'd race 

Of uncorrupted Man, nor blush'd to see 

The sluggard sleep beneath its sacred beam, 

For their slight slumbers gently fumed awa} T ; 

And up they rose as vigorous as the sun, 

Or to the culture of the willing glebe, 

Or to the cheerful tendance of the tlock. 

Meantime the song went round; and dance and sport, 

Wisdom and friendly talk, successive, stole 

Their hours away : while in the rosy vale 

Loye ' ' his infant sighs, from anguish free, 

And full replete with bliss ; save the sweet pain, 

That, inly thrilling, but exalts it more. 

Nor yet injurious act, nor surly deed, 

Was known among those happy sons of heaven ; 

For reason and benevolence were law. 

Harmonious Nature too look'd smiling on ; 

Clear shone the skies, coord with eternal gales, 

And balmy spirit all. The youthful sun 

Shot his best rays, and still the gracious clouds 

Dropp'd fatness down ; as o'er the swelling mead. 

The herds and flocks, commixing, play'd secure 

This when, emergent from the gloomy wood, 

The glaring lion saw, his horrid heart 

Was meekened, and he join'd his sullen joy ; 

For music held the whole in perfect peace ; 

Soft sigh'd the flute ; the tender voice was heard, 

Warbling the varied heart ; the woodlands round 

Apply'd their choir ; and winds and waters flow'd 

In consonance. Such were those prime of days. 

But now those white unblemish'd manners, whence 
The fabling poets took their golden age, 
Are found no more amid these iron times. 



SPRING. 31 

These dregs of life ! now the distemper'd mind 
Has lost that concord of harmonious powers, 
Which forms the soul of happiness ; and all 
Is off the poise within : the passions all 
Have burst their bounds ; and reason, half extinct. 
Or impotent, or else approving, sees 
The foul disorder. Senseless, and deform'd, 
Convulsive anger storms at large ; or pale, 
And silent, settles into fell revenge. 
Base envy withers at another's joy, 
And hates that excellence it cannot reach. 
Desponding fear, of feeble fancies full, 
Weak and unmanly, loosens every power. 
E'en love itself is bitterness of soul, 
A pensive anguish pining at the heart ; 
Or, sunk to sordid interest, feels no more 
That noble wish, that never-cloy'd desire, 
Which, selfish joy disdaining, seeks alone 
To bless the dearer object of its flame. 
Hope sickens with extravagance ; and grief, 
Of life impatient, into madness swells ; 
Or in dead silence wastes the weeping hours. 
These, and a thousand mixt emotions more, 
From ever-changing views of good and ill, 
Form'd infinitely various, vex the mind 
With endless storm : whence, deeply rankling, grows 
The partial thought, a listless unconcern, 
Cold, and averting from our neighbour's good ; 
Then dark disgust, and hatred, winding wiles, 
Coward deceit, and ruffian violence ; 
At last, extinct each social feeling, fell 
And joyless inhumanity pervades 
And petrifies the heart. Nature disturb'd 
Is deem'd vindictive, to have chang'd her courte. 
Hence, in old dusky time, a deluge came : 



32 bpRirsG. 

When the deep-cleft disparting orb, that arch d 
The central waters round, impetuous rush'd, 
With universal burst, into the gulf 
And o'er the high-pil'd hills of fractur'd earth 
Wide dash'd the waves, in undulation vast ; 
Till, from the centre to the streaming clouds, 
A shoreless ocean tumbled round the globe. 

The Seasons since have, with severer sway, 
Oppress'd a broken world : the Winter keen 
Shook forth his waste of snows ; and Summer shot 
His pestilential heats. Great Spring, before, 
Green'd all the year ; and fruits and blossoms blush'd> 
In social sweetness, on the self-same bough* 
Pure was the temperate air ; an even calm 
Perpetual reign'd, save what the zephyrs bland 
Breath'd o'er the blue expanse : for then nor storms 
Were taught to blow, nor hurricanes to rage ; 
Sound slept the waters : no sulphureous glooms 
SwelFd in the sky, and sent the lightning forth ; 
While sickly damps, and cold autumnal fogs. 
Hung not, relaxing, on the springs of life. 
But now, of turbid elements the sport, 
From clear to cloudy tost, from hot to cold, 
And dry to moist, with inward-eating change, 
Our drooping days are dwindled down to nought. 
Their period finish'd ere 'tis well begun. 

And yet the wholesome herb neglected dies ; 
Though with the pure exhilarating soul 
Of nutriment and health, and vital powers, 
Beyond the search of art, 'tis copious blest. 
For, with hot ravine fir'd, ensanguin'd Man 
Is now become the lion of the plain, 
And worse. The wolf, who from the nightly fold 
fierce drags the bleating prey, ne'er drunk her milk> 
Nor wore her Warming fleece : nor has the steer. 



SPRING. 33 

At whose strong chest the deadly tiger hangs, 

E'er plough'd for him. They too are temper'd high, 

With hunger stung and wild necessity, 

Nor lodges pity in their shaggy breast. 

But Man, whom Nature form'd of milder clay, 

With every kind emotion in his heart, 

And taught alone to weep ; while from her lap 

She pours ten thousand delicacies, herbs, 

And fruits, as numerous as the drops of rain, 

Or beams that gave them birth : shall he, fair form ! 

Who wears sweet smiles, and looks erect on heaven, 

E'er stoop to mingle with the prowling herd, 

And dip his tongue in gore ? The beast of prey, 

Blood-stain'd, deserves to bleed : but you, ye flocks, 

What have ye done ; ye peaceful people, what, 

To merit death ? j r ou, who have given us milk 

In luscious streams, and lent us your own coat 

Against the Winter's cold ? And the plain ox, 

That harmless, honest, guileless animal, 

In what has he offended ? he, whose toil, 

Patient and ever ready, clothes the land 

With all the pomp of harvest; shall he bleed, 

And struggling groan beneath the cruel hands 

E'en of the clown he feeds ? and that, perhaps, 

To swell the riot of th' autumnal feast, 

Won by his labour? Thus the feeling heart 

Would tenderly suggest : but 'tis enough, 

In this late age, adventurous, to have touched 

Light on the numbers of the Samian sage. 

High Heaven forbids the bold presumptuous strain. 

Whose wisest will has fix'd us in a state 

That must not yet to pure perfection rise. 

Now when the first foul torrent of the brooks, 
SwelPd with the vernal rains, is ebb'd away, 



04 SPRING. 

Descends the billowy foam : now is the time, 
While yet the dark-brown water aids the guile, 
To tempt the trout. The w r ell-dissembled fly, 
The rod fine tapering with elastic spring, 
SnatchM from the hoary steed the floating line, 
And all thy slender wat'ry stores prepare. 
But let not on thy hook the tortur'd worm. 
Convulsive, twist in agonizing folds ; 
Which by rapacious hunger swallow'd deep, 
Gives, as you tear it from the bleeding breast 
Of the weak helpless uncomplaining wretch, 
Harsh pain and horror to the tender hand. 

When with this lively ray the potent sun 
Has pierc'd the streams, and rous'd the finny race, 
Then, issuing cheerful, to thy sport repair ; 
Chief should the western breezes curling play, 
And light o'er ether bear the shadowy clouds. 
High to their fount, this day, amid the hills 
And woodlands warbling round, trace up the brooks; 
The next pursue their rocky channel'd maze, 
Down to the river, in whose ample wave 
Their little naiads love to sport at large. 
Just in the dubious point, where with the pool 
Is mix'd the trembling stream, or where it boils 
Around the stone, or from the hollo w'd bank 
Reverted plays in undulating flow, 
There throw, nice-judging, the delusive fly; 
And as you lead it round in artful curve, 
With eye attentive mark the springing game^ 
.Straight as above the surface of the flood 
They wanton rise, or urg'd by hunger leap, 
Then fix, with gentle twitch, the barbed hook : 
Some lightly tossing to the grassy bank, 
And to the shelving shore slow-dragging some, 
With various hand proportion'd to their force. 



SPRING. &3 

If yet too young, and easily deceiv'd, 
A worthless prey scarce bends your pliant rod, 
Him, piteous of his youth, and the short space 
He has enjoy'd the vital light of heaven, 
Soft disengage, and back into the stream 
The speckled captive throw, But should you lurs 
From his dark haunt, beneath the tangled roots 
Of pendant trees, the monarch of the brook 5 
Behooves you then to ply your finest art. 
Long time he, following cautious, scans the fly ; 
And oft attempts to seize it, but as oft 
The dimpled water speaks his jealous fear, 
At last, while haply o'er the shaded sun 
Passes a cloud, he desperate takes the death, 
With sullen plunge. At once he darts along, 
Deep-struck, and runs out all the lengthened line ; 
Then seeks the furthest ooze s the sheltering weed^ 
The cavern'd bank, his old secure abode ; 
And flies aloft, and flounces round the pool, 
Indignant of the guile. With yielding hand, 
That feels him still, yet to his furious course 
Gives way, you, now retiring, following now 
Across the stream, exhaust his idle rage : 
Till, floating broad upon his breathless side^ 
And to his fate abandon'd, to the shore 
You gaily drag your unresisting prize. 

Thus pass the temperate hours ; but when the sun 
Shakes from his noonday throne the scattering clouds, 
E'en shooting listless languor through the deeps ; 
Then seek the bank where flowering elders crowd 
Where scattered wild the lily of the vale 
Its balmy essence breathes ; where cowslips hang 
The dewy head ; where purple violets lurk. 
With all the lowly children of the shade : 
Or lie reclin'd beneath yon spreading asfy 



36 SPRING. 

Hung o'er the steep ; whence, borne on liquid wing, 

The sounding culver shoots ; or where the hawk, 

High, in the beetling cliff, his eyry builds. 

There let the classic page thy fancy lead 

Through rural scenes ; such as the Mantuan s wain 

Paints in the matchless harmony of song. 

Or catch thyself the landscape, gliding swift 

Athwart imagination's vivid eye : 

Or by the vocal woods and waters lull'd, 

And lost in lonely musing ; in the dream, 

Confus'd of careless solitude, where mix 

Ten thousand wandering images of things, 

Sooth every gust of passion into peace ; 

All but the swellings of the soften'd heart, 

That weaken, not disturb, the tranquil mind. 

Behold yon breathing prospect bids the Muse 
Throw all her beauty forth. But who can paint 
Like Nature ? Can imagination boast, 
Amid its gay creation, hues like hers ? 
Or can it mix them with that matchless skill, 
And lose them in each other, as appears 
In every bud that blows ? If fancy then 
Unequal fails beneath the pleasing task, 
Ah, what shall language do ? Ah, where find words 
Ting'd with so many colours, and whose power, 
To life approaching, may perfume my lays 
With that fine oil, those aromatic gales, 
That inexhaustive flow continual round ? 

Yet, though successless, will the toil delight. 
Come then, ye virgins and ye youths, whose hearts 
Have felt the raptures of refining love ; 
And thou, Amanda, come, pride of my song ! 
Form'd by the Graces, loveliness itself! 
Come with those downcast eyes, sedate and sweet, 
Those looks demure, that deeply pierce the soul: 



SPRING. OV 

Where, with the light of thoughtful reason mix'd, 
Shines lively fancy and the feeling heart : 
Oh come ! and while the rosy-footed May 
Steals blushing on, together let us tread 
The morning dews, and gather in their prime 
Fresh-blooming flowers, to grace thy braided hair, 
And thy lov'd bosom that improves their sweets. 
See, where the winding vale its lavish stores, 
Irriguous, spreads. See, how the lily drinks 
The latent rill, scarce oozing through the grasSj 
Of growth luxuriant; or the humid bank, 
In fair profusion, decks. Long let us walk, 
Where the breeze blows from yon extended field 
Of blossom'd beans. Arabia cannot boast 
A fuller gale of joy, than, liberal, thence 
Breathes through the sense, and takes the ravish'd souL 
Nor is the mead unworthy of thy foot, 
Full of fresh verdure, and unnumber'd flowers, 
The negligence of Nature, wide, and wild ; 
Where, undisguis'd by mimic Art, she spreads 
Unbounded beauty to the roving eye. 
Here their delicious task the fervent bees, 
In swarming millions, tend : around, athwart, 
Through the soft air, the busy nations fly, 
Cling to the bud, and with inserted tube, 
Suck its pure essence, its ethereal soul ; 
And oft, with bolder wing, they soaring dare 
The purple heath, or where the wild thyme grows, 
And yellow load them with the luscious spoil. 
At length the finish'd garden to the view 
Its vistas opens, and its alleys green. 
Snatch'd through the verdant maze, the hurried eye 
Distracted wanders ; now the bowery walk 
Of covert close, where scarce a speck of day 
Falls on the lengthen'd gloom, protracted sweeps : 
4 



38 SPRING 

Now meets the bending sky ; the river now 
Dimpling along, the breezy ruffled lake, 
The forest darkening round, the glittering spire, 
Th' ethereal mountain, and the distant main. 

But why so far excursive ? when at hand, 
Along these blushing borders, bright with dew, 
And in yon mingled wilderness of flowers, 
Fair-handed Spring unbosoms every grace ; 
Throws out the snow-drop, and the crocus first, 
The daisy, primrose, violet darkly blue, 
And polyanthus of unnumbered dyes ; 
The yellow wall-flower, stain'd with iron brown 
And lavish stock that scents the garden round : 
From the soft wing of vernal breezes shed, 
Anemonies; auriculas, enriclrd 
With shining meal o'er all their velvet leaves : 
And full ranunculas, of glowing red. 
Then comes the tulip-race, where Beauty plays 
Her idle freaks ; from family difius'd 
To family, as flies the father-dust, 
The varied colours run ; and, while they break 
On the charm'd eye, th' exulting florist marks, 
With secret pride, the wonders of his hand. 
No gradual bloom is wanting ; from the bud, 
First-born of Spring, to Summer's musky tribes 
Nor hyacinths, of purest virgin white, 
Low-bent, and blushing inward ; nor jonquilles, 
Of potent fragrance ; nor Narcissus fair, 
As o'er the fabled fountain hanging still ; 
Nor broad carnations, nor gay-spotted pinks ; 
Nor, shower'd from every bush, the damask-rose. 
Infinite numbers, delicacies, smells, 
With hues on hues expression cannot paint, 
The breath of Nature, and her endless bloom. 

Hail. Source of Being ! Universal Soul 



SPRING. 

Of heaven and earth ! Essential Presence, hail ! 

To Thee I bend the knee ; to Thee my thoughts, 

Continual, climb ; who, with a master hand, 

Hast the great whole into perfection touch'd. 

By Thee the various vegetative tribes, 

Wrapt in a filmy net, and clad with leaves, 

Draw the live ether, and imbibe the dew : 

By Thee disposed into congenial soils, 

Stands each attractive plant, and sucks, and swells 

The juicy tide ; a twining mass of tubes. 

At Thy command the vernal sun awakes 

The torpid sap, detruded to the root 

By wintry winds ; that now in fluent dance, 

And lively fermentation, mounting, spreads 

All this innumerous-coloured scene of things. 

As rising from the vegetable world 
My theme ascends, with equal wing ascend, 
My panting Muse ; and hark, how loud the woods 
Invite you forth in all your gayest trim. 
Lend me your song, ye nightingales ! oh, pour 
The mazy-running soul of melody 
Into my varied verse ! while I deduce, 
From the first note the hollow cuckoo sings, 
The symphony of Spring, and touch a theme 
Unknown to fame — the Passion of the Groves. 

When first the soul of love is sent abroad, 
Warm through the vital air, and on the heart 
Harmonious seizes, the gay troops begin, 
In gallant thought, to plume the painted wing ; 
And try again the long- forgotten strain, 
At first faint-warbled. But no sooner grows 
The soft infusion prevalent, and wide, 
Than, all alive, at once their joy o'erflows 
In music unconfin'd. Up springs the lark, 
Shrill-voic'd. and loud, the messenger of morn ; 



39 



40 SPRING. 

Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted smgs 
Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts 
Calls up the tuneful nations. Every copse 
Deep tangled, tree irregular, and bush 
Bending with dewy moisture, o'er the heads 
Of the coy choristers that lodge within, 
Are prodigal of harmony. The thrush 
And wood! ark, o'er the kind contending throng 
Superior heard, run through the sweetest length 
Of notes ; when listening Philomela deigns 
To let them joy, and purposes, in thought 
Elate, to make her night excel their day. 
The black-bird whistles from the thorny brake : 
The mellow bullfinch answers from the grove : 
Nor are the linnets, o'er the flowering furze 
Pour'd out profusely, silent. Join'd to these, 
Tnnumerous songsters, in the freshening shade 
Of new-sprung leaves, their modulations mix 
Mellifluous. The jay, the rook, the daw, 
And each harsh pipe, discordant heard alone, 
Aid the full concert: while the stock-dove breathes 
A melancholy murmur through the whole. 
'Tis love creates their melody, and all 
This waste of music is the voice of love ; 
That e'en to birds and beasts, the tender arts 
Of pleasing teaches. Hence the glossy kind 
Try every winning way inventive love 
Can dictate, and in courtship to their mates 
Pour forth their little souls. First wide around, 
With distant awe, in airy rings they rove, 
Endeavouring by a thousand tricks to catch 
The cunning, conscious, half-averted glance 
Of their regardless charmer. Should she seem, 
Softening, the least approvance to bestow, 
Their colours burnish, and by hope inspir'd. 



SPRING. 41 

They brisk advance ; then, on a sudden struck, 
Retire disordered ; then again approach ; 
In fond rotation spread the spotted wing, 
And shiver every feather with desire. 

Connubial leagues agreed, to the deep woods 
They haste away, all as their fancy leads, 
Pleasure, or food, or secret safety prompts ; 
That Nature's great command may be obey'd : 
Nor all the sweet sensations they perceive 
Indulg'd in vain. Some to the holly-hedge 
Nestling repair, and to the thicket some ; 
Some to the rude protection of the thorn 
Commit their feeble offspring : The cleft tree 
Offers its kind concealment to a few, 
Their food its insects, and its moss their nests. 
Others apart far in the grassy dale, 
Or roughening waste, their humble texture weave. 
But most in woodland solitudes delight ; 
In unfrequented glooms, or shaggy banks. 
Steep, and divided by a babbling brook, 
Whose murmurs sooth them all the live-long day. 
When by kind duty iix'd. Among the roots 
Of hazel, pendent o'er the plaintive stream, 
They frame the first foundation of their domes ; 
Dry sprigs of trees, in artful fabric laid, 
And bound with clay together. Now 'tis nought 
But restless hurry through the busy air, 
Beat by unnumbered wings. The swallow sweeps 
The slimy pool, to build his hanging house 
Intent. And often, from the careless back 
Of herds and flocks, a thousand tugging bills 
Pluck hair and wool ; and oft, when unobserv'd, 
Steal from the barn a straw : till soft and warm 
Clean and complete, their habitation grows. 

As thus the patient dam assiduous sits. 
4* 



42 Spring. 

Not to be tempted from her tender task, 

Or by sharp hunger, or by smooth delight, 

Though the whole loosen'd Spring around her blows : 

Her sympathizing lover takes his stand 

High on th' opponent bank, and ceaseless sings 

The tedious time away ; or else supplies 

Her place a moment, while she sudden flits 

To pick the scanty meal. Th' appointed time 

With pious toil fulfhTd, the callow young, 

Warm'd and expanded into perfect life, 

Their brittle bondage break ; and come to light. 

A helpless family, demanding food 

With constant clamour: O what passions then. 

What melting sentiments of kindly care, 

On the new parents seize ! Away they fly 

Affectionate, and undesiring bear 

The most delicious morsel to their young ; 

Which equally distributed, again 

The search begins. E'en so a gentle pair, 

By fortune sunk, but form'd of generous mould, 

And charm'd with cares beyond the vulgar breast ; 

In some lone cot amid the distant woods, 

Sustain'd alone by providential Heaven ; 

Oft, as they weeping eye their infant train, 

Check their own appetites, and give them all. 

Nor toil alone they scorn : Exalting love, 
By the great Father of the Spring inspir'd. 
Gives instant courage to the fearful race, 
And to the simple, art. With stealthy wing, 
Should some rude foot their woody haunts molest, 
Amid a neighbouring bush they silent drop. 
And whirring thence, as if alarm'd, deceive 
Th' unfeeling school-boy. Hence around the head 
Of wandering swain, the white-wing'd plover wheels 
Her sounding flight; and then directly on 



SPRING. 4o 

In long excursion skims the level lawn, 

To tempt him from her nest. The wild-duck, hence, 

O'er the rough moss, and o'er the trackless waste 

The heath-hen flutters, pious fraud ! to lead 

The hot pursuing spaniel far astray 

Be not the muse asham'd here to bemoan 
Her brothers of the grove, by tyrant Man 
Inhuman caught, and in the narrow cage 
From liberty confin'd, and boundless air. 
Dull are the pretty slaves, their plumage dull, 
Ragged, and all its brightening lustre lost ; 
Nor is that sprightly wildness in their notes, 
Which, clear and vigorous, warbles from the beech. 
O then, ye friends of love and love-taught song, 
Spare the soft tribes, this barbarous art forbear : 
If on your bosom innocence can win, 
Music engage, or piety persuade. 

But let not chief the nightingale lament 
Her ruin'd care, too delicately fram'd 
To brook the harsh confinement of the cage. 
Oft when, returning with her loaded bill, 
Th' astonish'd mother finds a vacant nest, 
By the hard hand of unrelenting clowns 
Robb'd, to the ground the vain provision falls ; 
Her pinions ruffle, and, low-drooping, scarce 
Can bear the mourner to the poplar shade ; 
Where, all abandon'd to despair, she sings 
Her sorrows through the night ; and on the bough, 
Sole-sitting, still at every dying fall 
Takes up again her lamentable strain 
Of winding wo ; till, wide around, the woods 
Sigh to her song, and with her wail resound. 

But now the feather'd youth their former bounds, 
Ardent, disdain ; and, weighing oft their wings, 
Demand the free possession of the sky : 



44 SPRING. 

This one glad office more, and then dissolves 

Parental love at once, now needless grown. 

Unlavish Wisdom never works in vain. 

5 Tis on some evening, sunny, grateful, mild, 

When nought but balm is breathing thro' the woods 

With yellow lustre bright, that the new tribes 

Visits the spacious heavens, and look abroad 

On Nature's common, far as they can see, 

Or wing, their range and pasture. O'er the boughs 

Dancing about, still at the giddy verge 

Their resolution fails ; their pinions still, 

In loose libration stretch'd, to trust the void 

Trembling refuse : Till down before them fly 

The parent guides, and chide, exhort, command, 

Or push them off. The surging air receives 

Its plumy burden ; and their self-taught wings 

Winnow the waving element. On ground 

Alighted, bolder up again they lead, 

Further and further on, the lengthening flight ; 

Till vanish'd every fear, and every power 

Rous'd into life and action, light in air 

Th' acquitted parents see their soaring race, 

And, once rejoicing, never know them more. 

High from the summit of a craggy cliff, 
Hung o'er the deep, such as amazing frowns 
On utmost Kilda's* shore ; whose lonely race 
Resign the setting sun to Indian worlds, 
The royal eagle draws his vigorous young, 
Strong-pounc'd, and ardent with parental fire ; 
Now fit to raise a kingdom of their own, 
He drives them from his fort, the towering seat, 
For ages, of his empire; while, in peace, 
Unstain'd he holds, which many a league to sea 
He wings his course, and preys in distant isles. 

* The furthest of the western islands of Scotland. 



SPRING. 45 

Should I my steps turn to the rural seat. 
Whose lofty elms, and venerable oaks, 
Invite the rook, who high amid the boughs. 
In early Spring, his airy city builds, 
And ceaseless caws amusive ; there, well-pleas'd, 
I might the various polity survey 
Of the mixt household kind. The careful hen 
Calls all her chirping family around, 
Fed and defended by the fearless cock; 
Whose breast with ardour flames, as on he walks, 
Graceful, and crows defiance. In the pond, 
The finely-checker'd duck, before her train, 
Rows garrulous. The stately-sailing swan 
Gives out his snowy plumage to the gale ; 
And, arching proud his neck, with oary feet 
Bears forward fierce, and guards his osier-isle, 
Protective of his young. The turkey nigh, 
Loud-threatening, reddens ; while the peacock spreads 
His every-colour'd glory to the sun, 
And swims in radiant majesty along. 
O'er the whole homely scene, the cooing dove 
Flies thick in amorous chase, and wanton rolls 
The glancing eye, and turns the changeful neck. 

While thus the gentle tenants of the shade 
Indulge their purer loves, the rougher world 
Of brutes, below, rush furious into flame, 
And fierce desire. Through all his lusty veins 
The bull, deep-scorch'd, the raging passion feels 
Of pasture sick, and negligent of food, 
Scarce seen, he wades among the yellow broom. 
While o'er his ample sides the rambling sprays 
Luxuriant shoot; or through the mazy wood 
Dejected wanders ; nor th' enticing bud 
Crops, though it presses on his careless sense. 
And oft, in jealous madd'ning fancy wrapt. 



4b SPRING. 

He seeks the fight ; and idly-butting feigns 
His rival gor'd in every knotty trunk. 
Him should he meet, the bellowing war begins : 
Their eyes flash fury ; to the hollow'd earth 
Whence the sand flies, they mutter bloody deeds, 
And groaning deep, the impetuous battle mix ; 
While the fair heifer, balmy-breathing, near, 
Stands kindling up their rage. The trembling steed, 
With this hot impulse seized in every nerve, 
Nor heeds the rein, nor hears the sounding thong : 
Blows are not felt; but tossing high his head, 
And by the well-known joy to distant plains 
Attracted strong, all wild he bursts away; 
O'er rocks, and woods, and craggy mountains flies ; 
And, neighing, on th' aerial summit takes 
Th' exciting gale ; then, steep-descending, cleaves 
The headlong torrents foaming down the hills, 
E'en where the madness of the straitened stream 
Turns in black eddies round : such is the force 
W T ith which his frantic heart and sinews swell. 

Nor undelighted by the boundless Spring 
Are the broad monsters of the foaming deep : 
From the deep ooze and gelid cavern rous'd, 
They flounce and tumble in unwieldy joy. 
Dire were the strain, and dissonant, to sing 
The cruel raptures of the savage kind : 
How by this flame their native wrath sublim'd, 
They roam, amid the fury of their heart, 
The far-resounding waste in fiercer bands, 
And growl their horrid loves. But this the theme 
1 sing, enraptur'd, to the British fair, 
Forbids, and leads me to the mountain-brow, 
Where sits the shepherd on the grassy turf 
Inhaling, healthful, the descending sun. 
Around him feeds his manv-bleating flock, 



SPRING. 4? 

Of various cadence ; and his sportive lambs, 

This way and that convolv'd, in friskful glee, 

Their frolics play. And now the sprightly race 

Invites them forth ; when swift, the signal given. 

They start away, and sweep the mossy mound 

That runs around the hill ; the rampart once 

Of iron war, in ancient barbarous times, 

"When disunited Britain ever bled, 

Lost in eternal broil : ere yet she grew 

To this deep-laid indissoluble state, 

Where Wealth and Commerce lift their golden heads ; 

And o'er our labours, Liberty and Law, 

Impartial, watch ; the wonder of a world ! 

What is this mighty breath, ye sages, say, 
That, in a powerful language, felt, not heard, 
Instructs the fowls of heaven ! and through their breast 
These arts of love diffuses ? What, but God ! 
Inspiring God ! who, boundless Spirit all, 
And unremitting Energy, pervades, 
Adjusts, sustains, and agitates the whole. 
He ceaseless works alone ; and yet alone 
Seems not to work : With such perfection fram'd 
Is this complex stupendous scheme of things. 

But, though conceal 'd, to every purer eye 
Th' informing Author in his works appears : 
Chief, lovely Spring ! in thee, and thy soft scenes, 
The Smiling God is seen ; while water, earth, 
And air attest his bounty ; which exalts 
The brute creation to this finer thought, 
And annual melts their undesignin'g hearts 
Profusely thus in tenderness and joy. 

Still let my song a nobler note assume, 
And sing th' infusive force of Spring on man ; 
When heaven and earth, as if contending, vie 
To raise his being, and serene his soul. 



4S SPRING. 

Can he forbear to join the general smile 

Of Nature? Can fierce passions vex his breast. 

While every gale is peace, and every grove 

Is melody ? hence ! from the bounteous walks 

Of flowing Spring, ye sordid sons of earth, 

Hard, and unfeeling of another's wo ; 

Or only lavish to yourselves ; away ! 

But come, ye generous minds, in whose wide thought, 

Of all his works, creative Bounty burns 

With warmest beam; and on your open front 

And liberal eye, sits, from his dark retreat 

Inviting modest want. Nor, till invok'd, 

Can restless goodness wait : your active search 

Leaves no cold wintry corner unexplor'd ; 

Like silent-working Heaven, surprising oft 

The lonely heart with unexpected good. 

For you the roving spirit of the wind 
Blows Spring abroad ; for you the teeming clouds 
Descend in gladsome plenty o'er the world ; 
And the sun sheds his kindest rays for you, 
Ye flower of human race ! In these green days, 
Reviving Sickness lifts her languid head ; 
Life flows afresh ; and young-eyed Health exalts 
The whole creation round. Contentment walks 
The sunny glade, and feels an inward bliss 
Spring o'er his mind, beyond the power of kings 
To purchase. Pure serenity apace . 
Induces thought and contemplation still 
By swift degrees the love of Nature works 
And warms the bosom ; till at last sublim'd 
To rapture, and enthusiastic heat, 
We feel the present Deity, and taste 
The joy of God to see a happy world ! 

These are the sacred feelings of thy heart, 
Thy heart inform'd by reason's purer ray. 



SPRING. 49 

Lyttleton, the friend ! thy passions thus 

And meditations vary, as at large, 

Courting the Muse, thro' Hagly Park thou stray'st ; 

Thy British Temple ! there along the dale, 

With woods o'er-hung, and shagg'd with mossy rocks, 

Whence on each hand the gushing waters play, 

And down the rough cascade while-dashing fall, 

Or gleam in lengthen'd vista through the trees, 

You silent steal ; or sit beneath the shade 

Of solemn oaks, that tuft the swelling mounts 

Thrown graceful round by Nature's careless hand, 

And pensive listen to the various voice 

Of rural peace. The herds and flocks, the birds, 

The hollow-whispering breeze, the plaint of rills, 

That, purling down amid the twisted roots 

Which creep around, their dewy murmurs shake 

On the sooth'd ear. From these abstracted oft, 

You wander through the philosophic world ; 

Where in bright train continual wonders rise, 

Or to the curious or the pious eye. 

And oft, conducted by historic truth, 

You tread the long extent of backward time ; 

Planning, with warm benevolence of mind, 

And honest zeal unwarp'd by party rage, 

Britannia's weal ; how from the venal gulf 

To raise her virtue, and her arts revive. 

Or, turning thence thy view, these graver thoughts 

The Muses charm : While, with sure taste refin'd, 

You draw the inspiring breath of ancient song ; 

Till nobly rises, emulous, thy own. 

Perhaps thy lov'd Lucinda shares thy walk. 
With soul to thine attun'd. Then Nature all 
Wears to the lover's eye a look of love ; 
And all the tumult of a guilty world, 
Tost by ungenerous passions, sinks away 
5 



50 sprim;. 

The tender heart is animated peace ; 

And as it pours its copious treasures forth, 

In varied converse, softening every theme, 

You, frequent pausing, turn, and from her eyes. 

Where meeken'd sense, and amiable grace, 

And lively sweetness dwell, enraptur'd, drink 

That nameless spirit of ethereal joy, 

Unutterable happiness ! which love 

Alone bestows, and on a favour'd few. 

jMeantime you gain the height, from whose fair brow 

The bursting prospect spreads immense around: 

And snatch o'er hill and dale, and wood and lawn 

And verdant field, and darkening heath between, 

And villages embosom'd soft in trees, 

And spiry towns by surging columns mark'd 

Of household smoke, your eye excursive roams : 

Wide-stretching from the hall, in whose kind haunt 

The hospitable Genius lingers still, 

To where the broken landscape, by degrees, 

Ascending, roughens into rigid hills ; 

O'er which the Cambrian mountains, like far clouds 

That skirt the blue horizon, dusky rise. 

Flush'd by the spirit of the genial year, 
Now from the virgin's cheek a fresher bloom 
Shoots, less and less, the live carnation round ; 
Her lips blush deeper sweets ; she breathes of youth f 
The shining moisture swells into her eyes, 
In brighter flow ; her wishing bosom heaves, 
With palpitations wild ; kind tumults seize 
Her veins, and all her yielding soul is love. 
From the keen gaze her lover turns away, 
Full of the dear ecstatic power, and sick 
With sighing languishment. Ah then, ye fair I 
Be greatly cautious of your sliding hearts : 
Dare not th' infectious sigh : the pleading look 



SPRING. 51 

Downcast, and low, in meek submission drest, 
But lull of guile. Let not the fervent tongue, 
Prompt to deceive, with adulation smooth, 
Gain on your purposed will. Nor in the bower, 
Where woodbines flaunt, and roses shed a couch, 
While Evening draws her crimson curtains round. 
Trust your soft minutes with betraj'ing Man. 

And let th' aspiring youth beware of love, 
Of the smooth glance beware ; for 'tis too late, 
When on his heart the torrent softness pours ; 
Then wisdom prostrate lies, and fading fame 
Dissolves in air away ; while the fond soul, 
Wrapt in gay visions of unreal bliss, 
Still paints the illusive form; the kindling grace; 
Th' enticing smile ; the modest-seeming eye, 
Beneath whose beauteous beams, belying heaven, 
Lurks searchless cunning, cruelty, and death : 
And still false-warbling in his cheated ear, 
Her siren-voice, enchanting, draws him on 
To guileful shores, and meads of fatal joy. 

E'en present, in the very lap of love 
Inglorious laid ; while music flows around, 
Perfumes, and oils, and wine, and wanton hours ; 
Arnid the roses fierce repentance rears 
Her snaky crest : a quick-returning pang 
Shoots thro' the conscious heart ; where honour still, 
And great design, against th' oppressive load 
Of luxury, by fits, impatient heave. 

But absent, what fantastic woes, arous'd, 
Rage in each thought, by restless musing fed, 
Chill the warm cheek, and blast the bloom of life ; 
Neglected fortune flies ; and sliding swift, 
Prone into ruin, fall his scorn'd affairs. 
'Tis nought but gloom around : The darken'd sun 
Loses his light. The rosy bosom'd Spring 



R9. 



SPRING. 



To weeping Fancy pines ; and yon bright arch, 
Contracted, bends into a dusky vault. 
All Nature fades extinct ; and she alone 
Heard, felt, and seen, possesses every thought. 
Fills every sense, and pants in every vein. 
Looks are but formal dulness, tedious friends : 
And sad amid the social band he sits, 
Lonely, and unattentive. From his tongue 
Th' unfinish'd period falls : while, borne away 
On swelling thought, his wafted spirit flies 
To the vain bosom of his distant fair; 
And leaves the semblance of a lover, fix'd 
In melancholy site, with head dcclin'd, 
And love-dejected eyes. Sudden he starts, 
Shook from his tender trance, and restless runs 
To glimmering shades, and sympathetic glooms ; 
Where the dun umbrage o'er the falling stream, 
Romantic, hangs ; there through the pensive dusk 
Strays, in heart-thrilling meditation lost, 
Indulging all to love : Or on the bank 
Thrown, amid drooping lilies, swells the breeze 
With sighs unceasing, and the brook with tears. 

Thus in soft anguish he consumes the day, 
Nor quits his deep retirement, till the Moon 
Peeps through the chambers of the fleecy east, 
Enlightened by degrees, and in her train 
Leads on the gentle hours ; then forth he walks 
Beneath the trembling languish of her beam, 
With soften'd soul, and woos the bird of eve 
To mingle woes with his : or, while the world 
And all the sons of Care lie hush'd in sleep, 
Associates with the midnight shadows drear ; 
And, sighing to the lonely taper, pours 
His idly tortur'd heart into the page, 
Meant for the moving messenger of love; 



SPRING. 

Where rapture burns on rapture, every line 
With rising frenzy fir'd. But if on bed 
Delirious flung, sleep from his pillow flies. 
All night he tosses, nor the balmy power 
In any posture finds ; till the gray Morn 
Lifts her pale lustre on the paler wretch, 
Exanimate by love ; and then perhaps 
Exhausted Nature sinks awhile to rest ; 
Still interrupted by distracted dreams, 
That o'er the sick imagination rise, 
And in black colours paint the mimic scene. 

Oft with the enchantress of his soul he talks 
Sometimes in crowds dislress'd; or if retir'd 
To secret winding flower-en woven bowers, 
Far from the dull impertinence of Man ; 
Just as he, credulous, his endless cares 
Begins to lose in blind oblivious love, 
Snatch'd from her yielded hand, he knows not how, 
Through forests huge, and long untravell'd heaths 
With desolation brown, he wanders waste, 
In night and tempest wrapt ; or shrinks aghast. 
Back, from the bending precipice ; or wades 
The turbid stream below, and strives to reach 
The further shore ; where succourless and sad. 
She with extended arms his aid implores ; 
Bu strives in vain : borne by th' outrageous flood 
To distance down, he rides the ridgy wave, 
Or whelm'd beneath the boiling eddy sinks. 

These are the charming agonies of love, 
Whose misery delights. But through the heart 
Should jealousy its venom once diffuse, 
5 Tis then delightful misery no more ; 
But agony unmix'd, incessant gall, 
Corroding every thought, and blasting all 
Love's paradise. Ye fairy prospects then 
5* 



54 SPRING. 

Ye beds of roses, and ye bowers of joy, 

Farewell ! ye gleamings of departed peace, 

Shine out your last ! the yellow-tinging plague 

Internal vision taints, and in a night 

Of livid gloom imagination wraps. 

Ah then, instead of love-enliven'd cheeks, 

Of sunny features, and of ardent eyes 

With flowing rapture bright, dark looks succeed, 

Suffus'd and glaring with untender fire ; 

A clouded aspect and a burning cheek, 

Where the whole poison'd soul malignant sits, 

And frightens love away. Ten thousand fears 

Invented wild, ten thousand frantic views 

Of horrid rivals, hanging on the charms 

For which he melts in fondness, eat him up 

With fervent anguish, and consuming rage. 

In vain reproaches lend their idle aid, 

Deceitful pride, and resolution frail, 

Giving false peace a moment. Fancy pours, 

Afresh her beauties on his busy thought, 

Her first endearments twining round the soul, 

With all the witchcraft of ensnaring love. 

Straight the fierce storm involves his mind anew, 

Flames through the nerves, and boils along the veins ; 

While anxious doubt distracts the tortur'd heart : 

For e'en the sad assurance of his fears 

Were ease to what he feels. Thus the warm youth, 

Whom love deludes into his thorny wilds, 

Through flowery-tempting paths, or leads a life 

Of fever'd rapture, or of cruel care ; 

His brightest flames extinguish'd all, and all ; 

His lively moments running down to waste. 

But happy they ! the happiest of their kind ! 
Whom gentler stars unite ; and in one fate 
Their hearts, their fortunes, and their being blen^. 



SPRING. 55 

5 Tis not the coarser tie of human laws, 
Unnatural oft, and foreign to the mind, 
That binds their peace, but harmony itself, 
Attuning all their passions into love ; 
Where friendship full exerts her softest power, 
Perfect esteem enlivened by desire 
Ineffable, and sympathy of soul ; 
Thought meeting thought, and will preventing will, 
With boundless confidence : For nought but love 
Can answer love, and render bliss secure. 
Let him, ungenerous, who, alone intent 
To bless himself, from sordid parents buys 
The loathing virgin, in eternal care, 
Well-merited, consume his nights and days ; 
Let barbarous nations, whose inhuman love 
Is wild desire, fierce as the suns tney feel ; 
Let eastern tyrants from the light of heaven 
Seclude their bosom-slaves, meanly possess'd 
Of a mere lifeless, violated form ; 
While those whom love cements in holy faith, 
And equal transport, free as Nature live, 
Disdaining fear. What is the world to them ? 
Its pomp, its pleasure, and its nonsense all, 
Who in each other clasp whatever fair 
High fancy forms, and lavish hearts can wish ; 
Something than beauty dearer, should they look 
Or on the mind, or mind-illumin'd face ; 
Truth, goodness, honour, harmony, and love, 
The richest bounty of indulgent heaven? 
Meantime a smiling offspring rises round, 
And mingles both their graces. By degrees, 
The human blossom blows ; and every day, 
Soft as it rolls along, shows some new charm, 
The father's lustre, and the mother's bloom. 



56 SPRING. 

Then infant reason grows apace, and calls 
For the kind hand of an assiduous care. 

Delightful task ! to rear the tender thought. 
To teach the young idea how to shoot, 
To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind, 
To breathe th' enlivening spirit, and to fix 
The generous purpose in the glowing breast. 
Oh, speak the joy ! ye, whom the sudden teai 
Surprises often, while you look around, 
And nothing strikes your eye but sights of bliss. 
All various Nature pressing on the heart; 
Au elegant sufficiency, content, 
Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, 
Ease and alternate labour, useful life, 
Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven ! 

These are the matchless joys of virtuous love ; 
And thus their moments fly. The Seasons thus. 
As ceaseless round a jarring world they roll, 
Still find them happy ; and consenting Spring 
Sheds her own rosy garland on their heads : 
Till evening comas at last, serene and mild ; 
When after the long vernal day of life, 
Knamour'd more, as more remembrance swells 
With many a proof of recollected love, 
Together down they sink in social sleep ; 
Together freed, their gentle spirits fly 
To scenes where love and bliss immortal reign. 



THE SEASONS. 



SUMMER. 



THE ARGUMENT. 

The subject proposed. Invocation. Address to Mr. Dodington. 
An introductory reflection on the motion of the heavenly bodies : 
whence the succession of the seasons. As the face of Nature in 
this season is almost uniform, the progress of the poem is a de- 
scription of a summer's day. The dawn. Sunrising. Hymn to 
the sun. Forenoon. Summer insects described. Hay-making. 
Sheep-shearing. Noon-day. A woodland retreat. Group of 
herds and flocks. A solemn grove : how it affects a contemplative 
mind A cataract, and rude scene. View of summer in the tor- 
rid zone. Storm of thunder and lightning. A tale. The storm 
over, a serene afternoon. Bathing. Hour of walking. Tran- 
sition to the prospect of a rich, well-cultivated country j which 
introduces a panegyric on Great Britain. Sunset. Evening. 
Night. Summer meteors. A comet. The whole concluding 
with the praise of philosophy. 




, she with the sylvan pen 
Of rural lovers this confession carv'd, 
Which soon her Damon kiss'd with weej ing joy. 



SUMMER. 



SUMMER 



From brightening fields of ether fair disclos'd, 
Child of the Sun, refulgent Summer comes, 
In pride of youth, and felt through Nature's depth. 
He comes attended by the sultry hours, 
And ever-fanning breezes, on his way ; 
While, from his ardent look, the turning Spring 
Averts her blushful face ; and earth, and skies, 
All-smiling, to his hot dominion leaves. 

Hence let me haste into the mid-wood shade, 
Where scarce a sun-beam wanders through the gloom $ 
And on the dark-green grass, beside the brink 
Of haunted stream, that by the roots of oak 
Rolls o'er the rocky channel, lie at large, 
And sing the glories of the circling year. 

Come, Inspiration ! from thy hermit-seat, 
By mortal seldom found : may fancy dare, 
From thy fix'd serious eye, and raptur'd glance 
Shot on surrounding heaven, to steal one look 
Creative of the Poet, every power 
Exalting to an ecstacy of soul. 

And thou, my youthful Muse's early friend, 
In whom the human graces all unite : 
Pure light of mind, and tenderness of heart ; 
Genius, and wisdom ; the gay social sense, 
By decency chastis'd ; goodness and wit. 
In seldom meeting harmony combin'd ; 



60 SUMMEK. 

Unblemish'd honour, and an active zeal. 
For Britain's glory, Liberty, and Man ! 
O Dodington ! attend my rural song, 
Stoop to my theme, inspirit every line, 
And teach me to deserve thy just applause. 

With what an awful world-revolving power 
Were first the unwieldy planets launch'd along 
TV illimitable void ! Thus to remain, 
Amid the flux of many thousand years, 
That oft has swept the toiling race of men, 
And all their labour'd monuments, away, 
Firm, unremitting, matchless, in their course : 
To the kind temper'd change of night and day, 
And of the seasons ever stealing round, 
Minutely faithful : such th' All-perfect Hand, 
That pois'd, impels, and rules the steady whole. 

When now no more th' alternate Twins are fir'd,. 
And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze. 
Short is the doubtful empire of the night; 
And soon observant of approaching day, 
The meek-ey'd Morn appears, mother of dews, 
At first faint gleaming in the dappled east : 
Till far o'er ether spreads the widening glow; 
And, from before the lustre of her face, 
White break the clouds away. With quicken'd step,> 
Brown Night retires : young Day pours in apace. 
And opens all the lawny prospect wide. 
The dripping rock, the mountain's misty top 
Swell on the sight, and brighten with the dawn. 
Blue, through the dusk, the smoking currents shine ; 
And from the bladed field the fearful hare 
Limps, awkward : while along the forest-glade 
The wild deer trip, and often turning gaze 
At early passenger. Music awakes 
The native voice of undissembled joy : 



SUMMER. 01 

And thick around the woodland hymns arise. 
Roused by the cock, the soon-clad shepherd leaves 
His mossy cottage, where with Peace he dwells ; 
And from the crowded fold, in order, drives 
His flock, to taste the verdure of the morn, 

Falsely luxurious ! will not man awake ; 
And, springing from the bed of sloth, enjoy 
The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour, 
To meditation due and sacred song ? 
For is there aught in sleep can charm the wise ? 
To lie in dead oblivion, losing half 
The fleeting moments of too short a life ; 
Total extinction of the enlighten'd soul ! 
Or else to feverish vanity alive, 
Wilder'd, and tossing through distemper'd dreams ! 
"Who would in such a gloomy state remain 
Longer than nature craves ; when every Muse 
And every blooming pleasure wait without, 
To bless the wildly devious morning walk ? 

But yonder comes the powerful King of day, 
Rojoicing in the east. The lessening cloud, 
The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow 
Illum'd with fluid gold, his near approach 
Betoken glad. Lo ! now, apparent all, 
Aslant the dew-bright earth, and colour'd air. 
He looks in boundless majesty abroad ; 
And sheds the shining day, that burnish'd plays 
On rocks and hills, and tow'rs, and wand'ring streams 
High gleaming from afar. Prime cheerer, Light ! 
Of all material beings first, and best ! 
Efflux divine ! Nature's resplendent robe ! 
Without whose vesting beauty all were wrapt 
In unessential gloom ; and thou, O Sun ! 
Soul of surrounding worlds ! in whom best seen 
Shines out thy Maker? may I sing of thee D 



62 SUMiMER. 

Tis by thy secret, strong, attractive force, 
As with a chain indissoluble bound, 
Thy system rolls entire : from the far bourne 
Of utmost Saturn, wheeling wide his round 
Of thirty years ; to Mercury, whose disk 
Can scarce be caught by philosophic eye, 
Lost in the near effulgence of thy blaze. 

Informer of the planetary train ! 
Without whose quick'ning glance their cumbrous orbs 
Were brute unlovely mass, inert and dead, 
And not, as now, the green abodes of life. 
How many forms of being wait on thee, 
Inhaling spirit ! from the unfetter'd mind, 
By thee sublim'd, down to the daily race, 
The mixing myriads of thy setting beam. 

The vegetable world is also thine, 
Parent of Seasons ! who the pomp precede 
That waits thy throne, as through thy vast domain? 
Annual, along the bright ecliptic road, 
In world-rejoicing state, it moves sublime. 
Meantime th' expecting nations, circled gay 
With all the various tribes of foodful earth. 
Implore thy bount}', or send grateful up 
A common hymn : while, round thy beaming car, 
High-seen, the Seasons lead, in sprightly dance 
Harmonious knit, the rosy-finger'd Hours ; 
The Zephyrs floating loose ; the timely Rains : 
Of bloom ethereal the light-footed Dews ; 
And soften'd into joy the surly Storms. 
These, in successive turn, with lavish hand, 
Shower every beauty, every fragrance shower, 
Herbs, flowers, and fruits ; till, kindling at thy touch, 
From land to land is flush'd the vernal year. 

Nor to the surface of enliven'd earth, 
Graceful with hills and dales, and leafy woods A 



SUMMER. 63 

Her liberal tresses, is thy force confin'd : 
But, to the bowel'd cavern darting deep, 
The mineral kinds confess thy mighty power. 
Effulgent, hence the veiny marble shines ; 
Hence labour draws his tools ; hence burnish'd War 
Gleams on the day ; the nobler works of Peace 
Hence bless mankind ; and gen'rous Commerce binds 
The round of nations in a golden chain. 

Th' unfruitful rock itself, impregn'd by thee. 
In dark retirement forms the lucid stone. 
The lively diamond drinks thy purest rays, 
Collected light, compact ; that, poiish'd bright, 
And all its native lustre let abroad, 
Dares, as it sparkles on the fair one's breast. 
With vain ambition emiftate her eyes. 
At thee the ruby lights its deepening glow, 
And with a waving radiance inward flames. 
From thee the sapphire, solid ether, takes 
Its hue cerulean ; and, of evening tinct, 
The purple-streaming amethyst is thine. 
With thy own smile the yellow topaz burns, 
Nor deeper verdure dyes the robe of Spring, 
When first she gives it to the southern gale, 
Than the green emerald shows. But, all combin'd, 
Thick through the whitening opal play thy beams ; 
Or, flying several from its surface, form 
A trembling variance of revolving hues, 
As the site varies in the gazer's hand. 

The very dead creation, from thy touch, 
Assumes a mimic life. By thee refin'd, 
In brighter mazes the relucent stream 
Plays o'er the mead. The precipice abrupt, 
Projecting horror on the blacken'd flood, 
Softens at thy return. The desert joys, 
Wildlv, through all his melancholy bounds. 



t>4 SUMMER. 

Rude ruins glitter ; and the briny deep, 
Seen from some pointed promontory's top. 
Far to the blue horizon's utmost verge, 
Restless, reflects a floating gleam. But this, 
And all the much-transported Muse can sing, 
Are to thy beauty, dignity, and use, 
Unequal far ; great delegated source 
Of light, p.nd life, and grace, and joy below ! 

How shall I then attempt to sing of Him ! 
Who, Light Himself, in uncreated light 
Invested deep, dwells awfully retir'd 
From mortal eye, or angel's purer ken; 
Whose single smile has, from the first of time 
Fill'd, overflowing, all those lamps of heaven 
That beam for ever through flic boundless sky : 
But, should he hide his face, the astonish'd sun, 
And all the extinguish'd stars, would loosening reel 
W T ide from their spheres, and Chaos come again. 

And yet was every faltering tongue of Man, 
Almighty Father ! silent in thy praise ; 
Thy Works themselves would raise a general voice, 
E'en in the depth of solitary woods 
By human foot untrod ; proclaim thy power, 
And to the choir celestial Thee resound, 
Th' eternal cause, support, and end of all ! 

To me be Nature's volume broad-display'd ; 
And to peruse its all-instructing page, 
Or, haply catching inspiration thence, 
Some easy passage, raptur'd to translate, 
My sole delight ; as through the falling glooms 
Pensive I stray, or with the rising dawn 
On fancy's eagle-wing excursive soar. 

Now, flaming up the heavens, the potent sun 
Melts into limpid air the high-rais'd clouds, 
And morning fogs, that hover'd round the hills 



SUMMER. 65 

Tn party coloured bands ; till wide unveil'd 

The face of Nature shines, from where earth seems, 

Far stretch'd around, to meet the bending sphere. 

Half in a blush of clustering roses lost, 
Dew-dropping Coolness to the shade retires ; 
There, on the verdant turf, or flowery bed, 
By gelid founts and careless rills to muse ; 
While tyrant Heat, dispreading through the sky, 
With rapid sway, his burning influence darts 
On man, and beast, and herb, and tepid stream. 

Who can unpitying see the flowery race, 
Shed by the morn, their new-flushed bloom resign, 
Before the parching beam ? so fade the fair, 
When fevers revel through their azure veins. 
But one, the lofty follower of the sun, 
Sad when he sets, shuts up her yellow leaves, 
Drooping all night; and, when he warm returns, 
Points her enamour'd bosom to his ray. 

Home from his morning task the swain retreats ; 
His flock before him stepping to the fold : 
While the full-udder'd mother lows around 
The cheerful cottage, then expecting food, 
The food of innocence and health ! The daw, 
The rook, and magpie, to the gray-grown oaks 
That the calm village in their verdant arms, 
Sheltering, embrace, direct their lazy flight ; 
Where on the mingling boughs they sit embower'd, 
All the hot noon, till cooler hours arise. 
Faint, underneath, the household fowls convene ; 
And, in a corner of the buzzing shade, 
The house-dog, with the vacant grayhound, lies, 
Outstretch'd and sleepy. In his slumbers one 
Attacks the nightly thief, and one exults 
O'er hill and dale ; till, waken'd by the wasp, 
Thev starting snap. Nor shall the Muse disdain, 
6* 



tit) SUMMER. 

To let the little noisy summer-race 
Live in her lay, and flutter through her song : 
Not mean though simple ; to the sun ally'd, 
From him they draw their animating fire. 

Wak'd by his warmer ray, the reptile young- 
Come wing'd abroad ; by the light air upborne, 
Lighter, and full of soul. From every chink, 
And secret corner, where they slept away 
The wintry storms ; or rising from their tombs, 
To higher life ; by myriads, forth at once, 
Swarming they pour ; of all the varied hues 
Their beauty-beaming parent can disclose. 

Ten thousand forms, ten thousand different tribes, 
People the blaze. To sunny waters some 
By fatal instinct fly ; where on the pool 
They, sportive, wheel ; or, sailing down the stream 
Are snatch'd immediate by the quick-ey'd trout, 
Or darting salmon. Through the green-wood glade 
Some love to stray ; there lodg'd, amus'd, and fed ; 
In the fresh leaf. Luxurious, others make 
The meads their choice, and visit every flower, 
And every latent herb : for the sweet task, 
To propagate their kinds, and where to wrap, 
In what soft beds, their young yet undisclos'd, 
Employs their tender care. Some to the house. 
The fold, and dairy, hungrj 7 , bend their flight; 
Sip round the pail, or taste the curdling cheese : 
Oft, inadvertent, from the milky stream 
They meet their fate ; or, weltering in the bowl, 
With powerless wings around them wrapt, expire. 

But chief to heedless flies the window proves 
A constant death ; where, gloomily retir'd, 
The villain spider lives, cunning, and fierce, 
Mixture abhorr'd ' amid a mangled heap 
Of carcasses, in eager watch he sits. 



SUMMER. 67 

O'erlooking all his waving snares around. 

Near the dire cell the dreadless wanderer oft 

Passes, as oft the ruffian shows his front ; 

The prey at last ensnar'd, he dreadful darts, 

With rapid glide, along the leaning line ; 

And, fixing in the Avretch his cruel fangs, 

Strikes backward grimly pleas'd ; the fluttering wing, 

And shriller sound, declare extreme distress. 

And ask the helping hospitable hand. 

Resounds the living surface of the ground : 
Nor undelightful is the ceaseless hum, 
To him who muses through the woods at noon ; 
Or drowsy shepherd, as he lies reclinM, 
With half-shut eyes, beneath the floating shade 
Of willows gray, close-crowding o'er the brook. 

Gradual, from these what numerous kinds descend. 
Evading e'en the microscopic eve ! 
Full nature swarms with life ; one wondrous mass 
Of animals, or atoms organized, 
Waiting the vital breath, when parent Heaven 
Shall bid his spirit blow. The hoary fen, 
In putrid streams, emits the living cloud 
Of pestilence. Through subterranean cells, 
Where searching sunbeams scarce can find a way. 
Earth animated heaves. The flowery leaf 
Wants not its soft inhabitants. Secure, 
Within its winding citadel, the stone 
Holds multitudes. But chief the forest boughs, 
That dance unnumber'd to the playful breeze : 
The downy orchard, and the melting pulp 
Of mellow fruit, the nameless nations feed 
Of evanescent insects. Where the pool 
Stands mantled o'er with green, invisible, 
Amid the floating verdure millions stray. 

Each liquid too. whether it pierces, soothes 



(j8 summer. 

Inflames, refreshes, or exalts the taste, 
With various forms abounds. Nor is the stream 
Of purest crystal, nor the lucid air, 
Though one transparent vacancy it seems, 
Void of their unseen people. These, conceal'd 
By the kind art of forming Heaven, escape 
The grosser eye of man : for, if the worlds 
In worlds enclos'd should on his senses burst, 
From cates ambrosial, and the nectar'd bowl, 
He would abhorrent turn ; and in dead night, 
When silence sleeps o'er all, be stunn'd with noise. 

Let no presuming impious railer tax 
Creative Wisdom, as if aught were form'd 
In vain, or not for admirable ends. 
Shall little haughty Ignorance pronounce 
His works unwise, of which the smallest part 
Exceeds the narrow vision of her mind ? 
As if upon a full-proportioo'd dome, 
On swelling columns heav'd, the pride of art 
A critic-fly, whose feeble ray scarce spreads 
An inch around, with blind presumption bold. 
Should dare to tax the structure of the whole! 
And lives the Man, whose universal eye 
Has swept at once th' unbounded scheme of things ; 
Mark'd their dependence so, and firm accord, 
As with unfaltering accent to conclude 
That this availeth naught ! Has any seen 
The mighty chain of beings, lessening down 
From Infinite Perfection to the brink 
Of dreary nothing, desolate abyss ! 
From which astonish'd thought, recoiling, turns ' 
Till then alone let zealous praise ascend, 
And hymns of holy wonder, to that Power, 
Whose wisdom shines as lovely on our minds, 
As on our smiling eves his servant sun% 



SUMMER. 6^ 

Thick in yon stream of light a thousand ways, 
Upward, and downward, thwarting, and convolved, 
The quivering nations sport ; till, tempest wing'd,, 
Fierce Winter sweeps them from the face of day. 
E'en so luxurious men, unheeding, pass 
An idle summer life in fortune's shine, 
A season's glitter ! Thus they flutter on 
From toy to toy, from vanity to vice ; 
Till, blown away by death, oblivion comes 
Behind, and strikes them from the book of life. 

Now swarms the village o'er the jovial mead : 
The rustic youth, brown with meridian toil, 
Healthful and strong ; full as the summer-rose 
Blown by prevailing suns, the ruddy maid, 
Half naked, swelling on the sight, and all 
Her kindled graces burning o'er her cheek. 
E'en stooping age is here ; and infant hands 
Trail the long rake, or, with the fragrant load 
O'ercharg'd, amid the kind oppression roll. 
Wide flies the tedded grain ; all in a row 
Advancing broad, or wheeling round the field. 
They spread their breathing harvest to the sun. 
That throws refreshful round a rural smell. 
Or, as they rake the green-appearing ground, 
And drive the dusky wave along the mead. 
The russet hay-cock rises thick behind, 
In order gay. While heard from dale to dale, 
Waking the breeze, resounds the blended voice 
Of happy labour, love, and social glee. 

Or rushing thence, in one diffusive band 
They drive the troubled flocks, by many a dog 
Compell'd, to where the mazy-running brook 
Forms a deep pool; this bank abrupt and high. 
And that fair-spreading in a pebbled shore. 
? T r£T'd to the giddv brink, much is the toil. 



70 SUMMER. 

The clamour much, of men, and boys, and dogs. 
Ere the soft fearful people to the flood 
Commit their woolly sides. And oft the swain. 
On some impatient seizing, hurls them in : 
Embolden'd then, nor hesitating more, 
Fast, fast, they plunge amid the flashing wave, 
And panting labour to the furthest shore. 
Repeated this till deep the well-wash'd fleece 
Has drunk the flood, and from his lively haunt 
The trout is banish' d by the sordid stream ; 
Heavy, and dripping, to the breezy brow 
Slow move the harmless race ; where, as they spread, 
Their swelling treasures to the sunny ray, 
Inly disturb'd, and wondering what this wild 
Outrageous tumult means, their loud complaints 
The country fill ; and, toss'd from rock to rock, 
Incessant bleatings run around the hills. 
At last, of snowy white, the gather'd flocks 
Are in the wattled pen innumerous press'd, 
Head above head : and rang'd in lusty rows 
The shepherds sit, and whet the sounding shears. 
The housewife waits to roil her lleecy stores, 
"With all her gaj r drest maids attending round. 
One, chief, in gracious dignity enthron'd, 
Shines o'er the rest, the pastoral queen, and rays 
Her smiles, sweet-beaming, on her shepherd-king ; 
While the glad circle round them yield their souls 
To festive mirth, and wit that knows no gall. 
Meantime, their joyous task goes on apace : 
Some mingling stir the melted tar, and s,ome, 
Deep on the new-shorn vagrant's heaving side, 
To stamp his master's cipher ready stand ; 
Others th' unwilling wether drag along ; 
And, glorying in his might, the sturdy boy 
Holds bv (he twisted horns th' indignant ram. 



SUMMER. 71 

Behold where bound, and of its robe bereft, 
By needy Man, that all-depending lord, 
How meek, how patient, the mild creature lies ! 
What softness in its melancholy face, 
What dumb complaining innocence appears ! 
Fear not, ye gentle tribes, 'tis not the knife 
Of horrid slaughter that is o'er you wav'd ; 
No, 'tis the tender swain's well-guided shears, 
Who having now, to pay his annual care, 
Borrow'd your fleece, to you a cumbrous load, 
Will send you bounding to your hills again. 

A simple scene ! yet hence Britannia sees 
Her solid grandeur rise : hence she commands 
Th' exalted stores of every brighter clime, 
The treasures of the Sun without his rage ; 
Hence, fervent all, with culture, toil, and arts, 
Wide glows her land : her dreadful thunder hence 
Rides o'er the waves sublime ; and now, e'en now, 
Impending hangs o'er Gallia's humbled coast ; 
Hence rules the circling deep, and awes the world. 

'Tis raging noon ; and, vertical, the sun 
Darts on the head direct his forceful rays. 
O'er heaven and earth, far as the ranging eye 
Can sweep, a dazzling deluge reigns ; and all 
From pole to pole is undistinguish'd blaze. 
In vain the sight, dejected to the ground, 
Stoops for relief; thence hot-ascending steams 
And keen reflection pain. Deep to the root 
Of vegetation parch'd, the cleaving fields 
And slippery lawn an arid hue disclose ; 
Blast Fancy's bloom, and wither e'en the soul. 
Echo no more returns the cheerful sound 
Of sharpening scythe : the mower sinking heaps 
O'er him the humid hay, with flowers perfum'd ; 
A o.l scarce a chirping grasshopper is heard 



72 SUMMER. 

Through the dumb mead. Distressful nature pants ; 
The very streams look languid from afar ; 
Or, through th' unshelter'd glade, impatient, seem 
To hurl into the covert of the grove. 

All-conquering Heat! oh, intermit thy wrath; 
And on my throbbing temples potent thus 
Beam not so fierce ! incessant still you flow, 
And still another fervent flood succeeds, 
Pour'd on the head profuse. In vain I sigh, 
And restless turn, and look around for night ; 
Night is far off; and hotter hours approach. 
Thrice happy he ! who on the sunless side 
Of a romantic mountain, forest-crown'd, 
Beneath the whole collected shade reclines ; 
Or in the gelid caverns, woodbine wrought, 
And fresh bedew'd with ever-spouting streams, 
Sits coolly calm ; while all the world without, 
Unsatisfied, and sick, tosses in noon. 
Emblem instructive of the virtuous man, 
Who keeps his temper'd mind, serene and pure; 
And every passion aptly harmoniz'd, 
Amid a jarring world with vice inflam'd. 

Welcome, ye shades ! ye bowery thickets, hail I 
Ye lofty pines ! ye venerable oaks ! 
Ye ashes wild, resounding o'er the steep ! 
Delicious is your shelter to the soul, 
As to the hunted hart the sallying spring, 
Ot stream full-flowing, that his swelling sides 
Laves, as he floats along the herbag'd brink. 
Cool, thro' the nerves, your pleasing comfort, glides ; 
The heart beats glad ; the fresh-expanded eye 
And ear resume their watch ; the sinews knit ; 
And life shoots swift through all the lighten'd limbs. 

Around th' adjoining brook, that purls along 
Th^ vnonl grove, now fretting o'er a rock, 



SUMMER. /o 

Now scarcely moving through a reedy pool, 
Now starting to a sudden stream, and now 
Gently diffus'd into a limpid plain ; 
A various group the herds and flocks compose, 
Rural confusion ! on the grassy bank 
Some ruminating lie ; while others stand 
Half in the flood, and often bending, sip 
The circling surface. In the middle droops 
The strong laborious ox, of honest front, 
Which incomposed he shakes ; and from his sides 
The troublous insects lashes with his tail, 
Returning still. Amid his subjects safe, 
Slumbers the monarch-swain ; his careless arm 
Thrown round his head, on downy moss sustain'd ; 
Here laid his scrip, with wholesome viands fill'd ; 
There, listening every noise, his watchful dog. 

Light fly his slumbers, if perchance a flight 
Of angry gad-flies fasten on the herd ; 
That startling scatters from the shallow brook, 
In search of lavish stream. Tossing the foam, 
They scorn the keeper's voice, and scour the plain, 
Through all the bright severity of noon ; 
While, from their labouring breasts, a hollow moan 
Proceeding, runs low-bellowing round the hills. 

Oft in this season too the horse, provok'd, 
While his big sinews full of spirits swell ; 
Trembling with vigour, in the heat of blood, 
Springs the high fence; and, o'er the field effus'd, 
Darts on the gloomy flood, with steadfast eye, 
And heart estrang'd to fear : his nervous chest, 
Luxuriant, and erect, the seat of strength, 
Bears* down th' opposing-stream: quenchless his thirst ; 
He takes the river at redoubled draughts ; 
And with wide nostrils, snorting, skims the wave. 

Still let me pierce into the midnight depth 
7 



74 SUMMER. 

Of yonder grove, of wildest largest growth ; 

That, forming high in air a woodland choir, 

Nods o'er the mount beneath. At every step, 

Solemn, and slow, the shadows blacker fall, 

And all is awful listening gloom around. 

These are the haunts of Meditation, these 

The scenes where ancient bards th' inspiring breath. 

Ecstatic, felt ; and, from this world retired 

ConversM with angels, and immortal forms, 

On gracious errands bent : to save the fall 

Of virtue struggling on the brink of vice : 

In waking whispers, and repeated dreams, 

To hint pure thought, and warn the favour'd soul 

For future trials fated to prepare ; 

To prompt the poet, who devoted gives 

His muse to better themes ; to sooth the pangs 

Of dying worth, and from the patriot's breast 

(Backward to mingle in detested war, 

But foremost when engag'd) to turn the death 

And numberless such offices of love, 

Daily, and nightly, zealous to perform. 

Shook sudden from the bosom of the sky 
A thousand shapes or glide athwart the dusk, 
Or stalk majestic on. Deep-rous'd, I feel 
A sacred terror, a severe delight, 
Creep through my mortal frame ; and thus, methinks, 
A voice, than human more, th' abstracted ear 
Of fancy strikes : — " Be not of us afraid, 
Poor kindred man ! thy fellow creatures, we 
From the same Parent Power our beings drew, 
The same our Lord, and laws, and great pursuit. 
Once some of us, like thee, through stormy life, 
Toil'd tempest-beaten, ere we could attain 
This holy calm, this harmony of mind, 
Where purity and peace immingle charms. 



SUMMER. iU 

Then fear not us ; but with responsive song. 
Amid these dim recesses, undisturb'd 
By noisy folly and discordant vice, 
Of Nature sing with us, and Nature's God. 

" Here frequent, at the visionary hour, 
When musing midnight reigns, or silent noon. 
Angelic harps are in full concert heard, 
And voices chanting from the wood-crown'd hill, 
The deepening dale, or inmost sylvan glade ; 
A privilege bestow'd by us, alone, 
On Contemplation, or the hallow'd ear 
Of poet, swelling lo seraphic strain." 

And art thou, Stanley,* of that sacred band ? 
Alas, for us too soon ! though rais'd above 
The reach of human pain, above the flight 
Of human joy ; yet, with a mingled ray 
Of sadly pleas'd remembrance, must thou feel 
A mother's love, a mother's tender wo : 
Who seeks thee still, in many a former scene ; 
Seeks thy fair form, thy lovety-beaming eyes, 
Thy pleasing converse, by gay lively sense 
Inspir'd : where moral wisdom mildly shone, 
Without the toil of art; and virtue glow'd, 
In all her smiles, without forbidding pride. 
But, O thou best of parents ! wipe thy tears : 
Or rather to Parental Nature pay 
The tears of grateful joy ; who for a while 
Lent thee this younger self, this opening bloom 
Of thy enlightened mind and gentle worth. 
Believe the Muse ; the wintry blast of death 
Kills not the buds of virtue ; no, they spread, 
Beneath the heavenly beam of brighter suns, 
Through endless ages, into higher powers. 

* A young lady, well known to the author, who died at the a?e of 
sighteen, in the year 1738. 



<0 SUMMER. 

Thus up the mount, in airy vision wrapt, 
I stray, regardless whither : till the sound 
Of a near fall of water every sense [back, 

Wakes from the charm of thought: swift-shrinking 
I check my steps, and view the broken scene. 

Smooth to the shelving brink a copious flood 
Rolls fair, and placid ; where collected all. 
In one impetuous torrent, down the steep 
It thundering shoots, and shakes the country round. 
At first, an azure sheet, it rushes broad ; 
Then whitening by degrees, as prone it falls, 
And from the loud-resounding rocks below 
Dash'd in a cloud of foam, it sends aloft 
A hoary mist, and forms a ceaseless shower. 
Nor can the tortur'd wave here find repose ; 
But, raging still amid the shaggy rocks, 
Now flashes o'er the scatter'd fragments, now 
Aslant the hollow'd channel rapid darts ; 
And falling fast from gradual slope to slope, 
With wild infracted course, and lessen'd roar, 
It gains a safer bed ; and steals, at last, 
Along the mazes of the quiet vale. 

Invited from the cliff, to whose dark brow 
He clings, the steep-ascending eagle soars, 
With upward pinions through the flood of day ; 
And, giving full his bosom to the blaze, 
Gains on the sun ; while all the tuneful race, 
Smit by th' afflictive noon, disorder'd droop, 
Deep in the thicket ; or, from bower to bower 
Responsive, force an interrupted strain. 
The stock-dove only through the forest coos, 
Mournfully hoarse ; oft ceasing from his plaint; 
Short interval of weary wo ! again 
The sad idea of his murder'd mate, 
Struck from his side by savage fowler's guile, 



SUMMER. * ( 

Across his fancy comes ; and then resounds 
A louder song of sorrow through the grove. 

Beside the dewy border let me sit, 
All in the freshness of the humid air : 
There in that hallow'd rock, grotesque and wild, 
An ample chair moss-lin'd, and over head 
By flowering umbrage shaded 5 where the bee 
Strays diligent, and with th' extracted balm 
Of fragrant woodbine loads his little thigh. 

Now, while I taste the sweetness of the shade, 
While Nature lies around deep-lulPd in noon, 
Now come, bold Fancy, spread a daring flight, 
And view the wonders of the torrid zone : 
Climes unrelenting ! with whose rage compar'd, 
Yon blaze is feeble, and yon skies are cool. 

See, how at once the bright-effulgent sun, 
Rising direct, swift chases from the sky 
The short-liv'd twilight ; and with ardent blaze 
Looks gaily fierce through all the dazzling air : 
He mounts his throne ; but kind before him sends. 
Issuing from out the portals of the morn, 
The general breeze ;* to mitigate his fire, 
And breathe refreshment on a fainting world. 
Great are the scenes, with dreadful beauty crownM 
And barbarous wealth, that see, each circling year 
Returning suns and double seasonsf pass : 
Rocks rich in gems, and mountains big with mines. 
That on the high equator ridgy rise, 
Whence many a bursting stream auriferous plays ; 

* Which blows constantly between the tropics from the east, or the 
collateral points, the north-east and south-east ; caused by the pressure 
of the rarefied air on that before it, according to the diurnal motion of 
the sun from east to west. 

f In all climates between the tropics, the Bun, as he passea and re- 
passes in his annual motion, is twice a year vertical, which produces 
this effect. 

7* 



?S SUMMER. 

Majestic woods, of ever}' vigorous green, 
Stage above stage, high waving o'er the hills ; 
Or to the far horizon wide diffus'd, 
A boundless deep immensity of shade. 

Here lofty trees, to ancient song unknown, 
The noble sons of potent heat and floods, 
Prone-rushing from the clouds, rear high to heaven 
Their thorny stems ; and broad around them throw 
Meridian gloom. Here, in eternal prime, 
Unnumber'd fruits, of keen delicious taste 
And vital spirit, drink amid the cliffs, 
And burning sands that bank the shrubby vales, 
Redoubled day ; yet in their rugged coats 
A friendly juice to cool its rage contain. 

Bear me, Pomona ! to thy citron groves ; 
To where the lemon and the piercing lime, 
With the deep orange, glowing through the green, 
Their lighter glories blend. Lay me reclin'd 
Beneath the spreading tamarind that shakes, 
Fann'd by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit. 
Deep in the night the massy locust sheds, 
Quench my hot limbs ; or lead me through the maze, 
Embowering endless, of the Indian fig ; 
Or thrown at gayer ease, on some fair brow, 
Let me behold, by breezy murmurs cool'd, 
Broad o'er my head the verdant cedar wave, 
And high palmetos lift their graceful shade. 
Oh, stretch'd amid these orchards of the sun, 
Give me to drain the cocoa's milky bowl, 
And from the palm to draw its freshening wine ! 
More bounteous far than all the frantic juice 
Which Bacchus pours. Nor, on its slender twigs 
Low-bending, be the full pomegranate scorn'd ; 
Nor, creeping through the woods, the gelid race 
Of berries. Oft in humble station dwells 



SLMMER. ( 

Unboastiul worth, above fastidious pomp. 

Witness thou best anana, thou the pride 

Of vegetable life, beyond vvhate'er 

The poets imag'd in the golden age : 

Quick let me strip thee of thy tufty coat, 

Spread thy ambrosial stores, and feast with Jove ! 

From these the prospect varies. Plains immense 
Lie stretch'd below, interminable meads, 
And vast savannahs, where the wandering eye, 
Unfixt, is in a verdant ocean lost. 
Another Flora there, of bolder hues 
And richer sweets, beyond our garden's pride, 
Plays o'er the fields, and showers with sudden hand 
Exuberant spring: for oft these valleys shift 
Their green-embroider'd robe to fiery brown, 
And swift to green again, as scorching suns, 
Or streaming dews and torrent rains, prevail. 

Along these lonely regions, where retir'd 
From little scenes of art, great Nature dwells 
In awful solitude, and nought is seen 
But the wild herds that own no master's stall, 
Prodigious rivers roll their fattening seas : 
On whose luxuriant herbage, half-conceal'd, 
Like a fall'n cedar, far ditfus'd his train, 
Cas'd in green scales, the crocodile extends. 
The flood disparts : behold ! in plated mail, 
Behemoth* rears his head. Glanc'd from his side, 
The darted steel in idle shivers flies : 
He fearless walks the plain, or seeks the hills ; 
Where, as he crops the varied fare, the herds, 
In widening circle round, forget their food, 
And at the harmless stranger wondering gaze. 

Peaceful, beneath primeval trees, that cast 
Their ample shade o'er Niger's yellow stream, 
* The Hippopotamus, or river-horee 



Si) SUMMER. 

And where the Ganges rolls his sacred wave ; 

Or mid the central depth of blackening woods, 

High-raised in solemn theatre around, 

Leans the huge elephant : wisest of brutes ! 

O truly wise ! with gentle might endow'd ; 

Though powerful, not destructive ! here he sees 

Revolving ages sweep the changeful earth, 

And empires rise and fall ; regardless he 

Of what the never-resting race of men 

Project : thrice happy ! could he 'scape their guile, 

Who mine from cruel avarice, his steps ; 

Or with his towery grandeur swell their state, 

The pride of kings ! or else his strength pervert, 

And bid him rage amid the mortal fray, 

Astonish'd at the madness of mankind. 

Wide o'er the winding umbrage of the floods, 
Like vivid blossoms glowing from afar, 
Thick swarm the brighter birds. For Nature's hand 
That with a sportive vanity has deck'd 
The plumy nations, there her gayest hues 
Profusely pours. But, if she bids them shine, 
Array'd in all the beauteous beams of day, 
Yet frugal still, she humbles them in song. 
Nor envy we the gaudy robes they lent 
Proud Montezuma's realm, whose legions cast 
A boundless radiance waving on the sun, 
While Philomel is ours; while in our shade, 
Through the soft silence of the listening night, 
The sober-suited songstress thrills her lay. 

But come, my Muse, the desert-barrier burst, 
A wide expanse of lifeless sand and sky : 
And, swifter than ihe toiling caravan, 
Shoot o'er the vale of Sennar ; ardent climb 

* In all the regions of the torrid zone, the birds, though 
more beautiful in" their plumage, are observed to be less me- 
lodious than ours. 



SUMMER. 81 

The Nubian mountains, and the secret bounds 
Of jealous Abyssinia boldly pierce. 
Thou art no ruffian, who beneath the mask 
Of social commerce eom'st to rob their wealth ; 
No holy fury thou, blaspheming Heaven, 
With consecrated steel to stab their peace, 
And through the land, yet red from civil wounds. 
To spread the purple tyranny of Rome. 
Thou, like the harmless bee, may'st freely range, 
From mead to mead bright with exalted flowers ; 
From jasmine grove to grove, may'st wander gay ; 
Through palmy shades and aromatic woods, 
That grace the plains, invest the peopled hills, 
And up the more than Alpine mountains wave. 
There on the breezy summit, spreading fair, 
For many a league ; or on stupendous rocks, 
That from the sun- redoubling valley lift, 
Cool to the middle air, their lawney tops ; 
Where palaces, and fanes, and villas rise ; 
And gardens smile around, and cultur'd fields ; 
And fountains gush ; and careless herds and flocks 
Securely stray ; a world within itself, 
Disdaining all assault : there let me draw 
Ethereal soul ; there drink reviving gales. 
Profusely breathing from the spicy groves, 
And vales of fragrance ; there at distance hear 
The roaring floods, and cataracts that sweep 
From disembowell'd earth the virgin gold ; 
And o'er the varied landscape, restless, rove. 
Fervent with life of every fairer kind : 
A land of wonders ! which the sun still eyes 
With ray direct, as of the lovely realm 
Enamour d, and delighting there to dwell. 

How changed the scene ! in blazing height of noon, 
The sun, oppress'd, is plung'd in thickest gloom. 



82 SUMMER. 

Still horror reigns ! a dreary twilight round, 
Of struggling night and day malignant mix'd ! 
For to *he hot equator crowding fast, 
Where, highly rarefied, the yielding air 
Admits their stream, incessant vapours roll, 
Amazing clouds on clouds continual heap'd ; 
Or whirl'd tempestuous by the gusty wind, 
Or silent borne along, heavy, and slow, 
With the big stores of steaming oceans charg'd 
Meantime, amid these upper seas, condens'd 
Around the cold aerial mountain's brow, 
And by conflicting winds together dash'd, 
The thunder holds his black tremendous throne ; 
From cloud to cloud the rending lightnings rage ; 
Till, in the furious elemental war 
Dissolv'd the whole precipitated mass 
Unbroken floods and solid torrents pours. 

The treasures these, hid from the bounded search 
Of ancient knowledge ; whence with annual pomp. 
Rich king of floods ! o'erflows the swelling Nile. 
From his two springs, in Gojam's sunny realm, 
Pure-swelling out, he through the lucid lake 
Of fair Dambea rolls his infant stream. 
There, by the naiads nurs'd he sports away 
His playful youth, amid the fragrant isles, 
That with unfading verdure smile around. 
Ambitious, thence, the manly river breaks ; 
And gathering many a flood, and copious fed 
With all the mellow'd treasures of the sky, 
Winds in progressive majesty along : 
Through splendid kingdoms now devolves his maze, 
Now wanders wild o'er solitary tracts 
Of life-deserted sand ; till, glad to quit 
The joyless desert, down the Nubian rocks 



SUMMER. 83 

From thundering steep to steep, he pours his urn, 
And Egypt joys beneath the spreading wave. 

His brother Niger too, and all the floods 
In which the full-form'd maids of Afric lave 
Their jetty iimbs ; and all that from the tract 
Of woody mountains stretch'd through gorgeous Ind 
Fall on Cormandel's coast, or Malabar; 
From Menam's* orient stream, that nightly shines 
With insect-lamps, to where Aurora sheds 
On Indus' smiling banks the rosy shower; 
All, at this bounteous season, ope their urns, 
And pour untoiling harvest o'er the land. 

Nor less thy world, Columbus, drinks refresh'd 
The lavish moisture of the melting year. 
Wide o'er his isles, the branching Oronoque 
Rolls a brown deluge ; and the native drives 
To dwell aloft on life-sufficing trees, 
At once his dome, his robe, his food, and arms. 
Swell'd by a thousand streams, impetuous hurl'd 
From all the roaring Andes, hugh descends 
The mighty Orellana.f Scarce the Muse 
Dares stretch her wing o'er this enormous mass 
Of rushing water ; scarce she dares attempt 
The sea-like Plata ; to whose dread expanse, 
Continuous depth, and wondrous length of course, 
Our floods are rills. With unabated force, 
In silent dignity they sweep along ; 
And traverse realms unknown, and blooming wilds 
And fruitful desarts, worlds of solitude ! 
Where the sun smiles and seasons teem in vain, 
Unseen, and unenjoy'd. Forsaking these, 
O'er peopled plains they far diffusive flow, 

* The river that runs through Siam ; on whose banks a vast multi- 
tude of those insects, called fire-flies, make a beautiful appearance irt 
the night. 

+ The river of the Amazons 



84 SUMMER. 

And many a nation feed, and circle safe. 
In their soft bosom, many a happy isle ;• 
The seat of blameless Pan, yet undisturb'd 
By Christian crimes and Europe's cruel sons. 
Thus pouring on they proudly seek the deep, 
Who3e vanquish'd tide, recoiling from the shock, 
Yields to this liquid weight of half the globe ; 
And ocean trembles for his green domain. 

But what avails this wondrous waste of wealth? 
This gay profusion of luxurious bliss ? 
This pomp of Nature ? what their balmy meads, 
Their powerful herbs, and Ceres void of pain ? 
By vagrant birds dispers'd, and wafting winds, 
What their unplanted fruits ? what the cool draughts, 
Th' ambrosial food, rich gums, and spicy health, 
Their forests yield ? their toiling insects what ? 
Their silky pride, and vegetable robes ? 
Ah ! what avail their fatal treasures, hid 
Deep in the bowels of the pitying earth, 
Golconda's gems, and sad Potosi's mines ; 
Where dwelt the gentlest children of the sun ? 
What all that Afric's golden rivers roll, 
Her odorous woods, and shining ivory stores? 
Ill-fated race ! the softening arts of Peace, 
Whate'er the humanizing Muses teach ; 
The godlike wisdom of the temper'd breast ; 
Progressive truth ; the patient force of thought ; 
Investigation calm, whose silent powers 
Command the world ; the light that leads to heaven ; 
Kind equal rule ; the government of laws, 
And all-protecting Freedom, which alone 
Sustains the name and dignity of man ; 
These are not theirs. The parent-sun himself 
Seem o'er this world of slaves to tyrannize ; 
And. with oppressive ray, the roseate bloom 



SUMMER. So 

Of beauty blasting, gives the gloom}' hue, 
And feature gross : or worse, to ruthless deeds, 
Mad jealousy, blind rage, and fell revenge, 
Their fervid spirit fires. Love dwells not there; 
The soft regards, the tenderness of life, 
The heart-shed tear, th 1 ineffable delight 
Of sweet humanity : these court the beam 
Of milder climes ; in selfish fierce desire, 
And the wild fury of voluptuous sense, 
There lost. The very brute creation there 
This rage partakes, and burns with horrid fire. 
Lo ! the green serpent, from his dark abode, 
Which e'en Imagination fears to tread, 
At noon forth-issuing, gathers up his train 
In orbs immense ; then, darting out anew, 
Seeks the refreshing fount ; by which diffus'd 
He throws his folds : and while, with threatening 
And deathful jaws erect, the monster curls [tongue 
His flaming crest, all other thirst appall'd, 
Or shivering flies, or check'd at distance stands 
Nor dares approach. But still more direful he. 
The small close-lurking minister of fite, 
Whose high concocted venom through the veins 
A rapid lightning darts, arresting swift 
The vital current. Form'd to humble man, 
This child of vengeful Nature ! there, sublim'd 
To fearless lust of blood, the savage race 
Roam, licens'd by the shading hour of guilt, 
And foul misdeed, when the pure day has shut 
His sacred eye. The tiger darting fierce 
Impetuous on the prey his glance has doom'd ; 
The lively-shining leopard, speckled o'er 
V, ith many a spot, the beauty of the waste ; 
Aw], scorning all the taming arts of man, 
Tbe keen byena, fellest of the fell 



SG SUMMER. 

These, rushing from th' inhospitable woods 
Of Mauritania, or the tufty isles 
That verdant rise amid the Lybian wild, 
Innumerous glare around their shaggy king, 
Majestic, stalking o'er the printed sand ; 
And, with imperious and repeated roars, 
Demand their fated food. The fearful flocks 
Crowd near the guardian swain ; the nobler herds. 
Where round their lordly bull, in rural ease, 
They ruminating lie, with horror hear 
The coming rage. Th' awaken'd village starts ; 
And to her fluttering breast the mother strains 
Her thougntless infant. From the pirate's den, 
Or stern Morocco's tyrant fang escap'd, 
The wretch half-wishes for his bonds again : 
While, uproar all, the wilderness resounds, 
From Atlas eastward to the frightened Nile. 
Unhappy he ! who from the first of joys, 
Society, cut oft", is left alone 
Amicl this world of death. Day after Day, 
Sad on the jutting eminence h 
And views the main that ever toils below; 
Still fondly forming in the furthest verge. 
Where the round ether mixes with the wave. 
Ships, dim-discover'd, dropping from the clouds J 
At evening, to the setting sun he turns 
A mournful eye, and down his dying heart 
Sinks helpless : while the wonted roar is up, 
And hiss continual through the tedious night. 
Yet here,e'en here, into these black abodes 
Of monsters, unappall'd from stooping Rome, 
And guilty Caesar, Liberty retir'd, 
Her Cato following through Numidian wilds : 
Disdainful of Campania's gentle plains, 
And all the green delights Ausonia pours : 









SUMMER. $7 

When for them she must bend the servile knee, 
And fawning take the splendid robber's boon. 
Nor stop the terrors of these regions here. 
Commission'd demons oft, angels of wrath ! 
Let loose the raging elements. Breath'd hot, 
From all the boundless furnace of the sky, 
And the wide glittering waste of burning sand, 
A suffocating wind the pilgrim smites 
With instant death. Patient of thirst and toil, 
Son of the desert ! e'en the camel feels, 
Shot through his wither'd heart, the fiery blast. 
Or from the black-red ether, bursting broad, 
Sallies the sudden whirlwind. Straight the sands, 
Commov'd around, in gathering eddies play; 
Nearer and nearer still they darkening come ; 
Till, with the general all-involving storm 
Swept up, the whole continuous wilds arise ; 
And by their noonday fount dejected thrown. 
Or sunk at night in sad disastrous sleep, 
Beneath descending hills, the caravan 
Is buried deep. In Cairo's crowded streets 
Th' impatient merchant, wondering, waits in vain, 
And Mecca saddens at the long delay. 
But chief at sea, whose every flexile wave 
Obeys the blast, the aereal tumult swells. 
In the dread ocean, undulating wide, 
Beneath the radiant line that girts the globe, 
The circling Typhon,* whirl'd from point to point, 
Exhausting all the rage of all the sky, 
And dire Ecnephia* reign. Amid the heavens, 
Falsely serene, deep in a cloudy speckf 
Compress' d the mighty tempest brooding dwells : 

* Typhon and Ecnephia, names of particular storms or 
hurricanes, known only between the tropics. 

t Called by sailor? the Ox-eye, being- in appearance at first 
no bigger. 



88 SUMMER. 

Of no regard, save to the skilful e} re. 

Fiery and foul, the small prognostic hangs 

Aloft, or on the promontory's brow 

Musters its force. A faint deceitful calm, 

A fluttering gale, the demon sends before, 

To tempt the spreading sail. Then down at once, 

Precipitant, descends a mingled mass 

Of roaring winds, and flame, and rushing floods. 

In wild amazement fix d the sailor stands. 

Art is too slow : by rapid late oppress'd 

His broad-wing'd vessel drinks the whelming tide, 

Hid in the bosom of the black abyss. 

With such mad seas the daring Gama* fought. 

For many a day, and many a dreadful night, 

Incessant, labouring round the stormy Cape ; 

By bold ambition led, and bolder thirst 

Of gold. For then from ancient gloom emerg'd 

The rising world of trade : the Genius, then, 

Of navigation, that in hopeless sloth, 

Had slumber'd on the vast Atlantic deep, 

For idle ages, starting, heard at last 

The Lusitanian Prince ;t who, Heav'n-inspir'd, 

To love of useful glory rous'd mankind, 

And in unbounded commerce mix'd the world. 

Increasing still the terrors of these storms, 
His jaws horrific arnvd with threefold fate, 
Here dwells the direful shark. Lur'd by the scent 
Of steaming crowds, of rank disease, and death, 
Behold ! he rushing cuts the briny flood, 
Swift as the gale can bear the ship along; 



* Vasco de Gama, the first who sailed round Africa, by the Cape of 
Good Hope, to the East Indies. 

f Don Henry, third son to John the first, king of Portugal. His 
strong genius to the discovery of new countries was the chief source 
of all the modern improvements in navigation- 



summer! 89 

And, from the partners of that cruel trade, 
Which spoils unhappy Guinea of her sons, 
Demands his share of prey — demands themselves. 
The stormy fates descend : one death involves 
Tyrants and slaves ; when straight, their mangled limbs 
Crashing at once, he dyes the purple seas 

^With gore, and riots in the vengeful meal. 
When o'er this world, by equinoctial rains 

" Flooded immense, looks out the joyless sun, 
And draws the copious stream : from swampy fens 
Where putrefaction into life ferments, 
And breaths destructive myriads ; or, from woods, 
Impenetrable shades, recesses foul, 
In vapours rank and blue corruption wrapt, 
"Whose gloomy horrors yet no desperate foot 
Has ever dared to pierce ; then wasteful, forth 
Walks the dire power of pestilent disease. 
A thousand hideous fiends her course attend, 
Sick Nature blasting, and to heartless wo, 
And feeble desolation casting down 
The towering hopes and al! the pride of Man. 
Such as, of late, at Carthagena quenched 
The British fire. You, gallant Vernon ! saw 
The miserable scene ; you, pitying, saw 
To infant weakness sunk the warrior's arm ; 
Saw the deep-racking pang, the ghastly form, 
The lip pale-quivering, and the beamless eye 
No more with ardour bright : you heard the groans 
Of agonizing ships, from shore to shore , 
Heard, nightly plung'd amid the sullen waves, 
The frequent corse ; while on each other fix'd, 
In sad presage, the blank assistants seem'd, 
Silent, to ask, whom Fate would next demand. 
What need I mention those inclement skies, 
Where, frequent o'er the sickening city, Plague 



90 SUMMER. 

The fiercest child of Nemesis divine, 

Descends ? From Ethiopia's poison'd woods. 

From stifled Cairo's filth, and fetid fields 

With locust-armies putrifying heap'd 

This great destroyer sprung.* Her awful rage 

The brutes escape : Man is her destin'd prey, 

Intemperate Man ! and, o'er his guilty domes, 

She draws a close incumbent cloud of death ; 

Uninterrupted by the living winds, 

Forbid to blow a wholesome breeze ; and stain'd 

With many a mixture by the sun suffus'd, 

Of angry aspect. Princely wisdom, then, 

Dejects his watchful e} T e ; and from the hand 

Of feeble justice, ineffectual, drop 

The sword and balance : mute the voice of joy, 

And hush'd the clamour of the busy world. 

Empty the streets, with uncouth verdure clad; 

Into the worst of deserts sudden turn'd 

The cheerful haunt of men ; unless escap'd 

From the doom'd house, where matchless horror reigns; 

Shut up by barbarous fear, the smitten wretch, 

With frenzy wild, breaks loose ; and, loud to Heaven 

Screaming, the dreadful policy arraigns, 

Inhuman, and unwise. The sullen door, 

Yet uninfected, on its cautious hinge 

Fearing to turn, abhors society : 

Dependants, friends, relations, Love himself, 

Savag'd by wo, forget the tender tie, 

The sweet engagement of the feeling heart. 

But vain their selfish care : the circling sky. 

The wide enlivening air is full of fate ; 

And, struck by turns, in solitary pangs 



* 'i%ese are the causes supposed to be the first origin of the plague*. 
in Dr. Mead's elegant book f>n that subject 



SUMMER. 91 

They fall, unblest, untended, and unmourn'd. 
Thus o'er the prostrate city black Despair 
Extends her raven wing ; while, to complete 
The scene of desolation, stretch'd around, 
The grim guards stand, denying all retreat, 
And give the flying wretch a better death. 

Much yet remains unsung : the rage intense 
Of brazen-vaulted skies, of iron fields, 
Where drought and famine starve the blasted year: 
Fir'd by the torch of noon to tenfold rage, 
Th' infuriate hill that shoots the pillar'd flame ; 
And, rous'd within the subterranean world, 
Th' expanding earthquake, that resistless shakes 
Aspiring cities from their solid base, 
And buries mountains in the flaming gulf. 
But 'tis enough ; return, my vagrant Muse : 
A nearer scene of horror calls thee home. 
Behold, slow-settling o'er the lurid grove, 
Unusual darkness broods ; and growing gains 
The full possession of the sky, surcharg'd 
With wrathful vapour, from the secret beds 
Where sleep the mineral generations, drawn. 
Thence nitre, sulphur, and the fiery spume 
Of fat bitumen, steaming on the day, 
With various-tinctured trains of latent flame, 
Pollute the sky; and in yon baleful cloud, 
A reddening gloom, a magazine of fate, 
Ferment ; till, by the touch ethereal rous'd, 
The dash of clouds, or irritating war, 
Of fighting winds, while all is calm below, 
They furious spring. A boding silence reigns } 
Dread through the dun expanse ; save the dull sound 
That from the mountain, previous to the storm, 
Rolls o'er the muttering earth, disturbs the flood, 
And shakes the forest-leaf without a breath, 



92 SUxMMER. 

Prone, to the lowest vale, the aerial tribes 
Descend : the tempest-loving raven scarce 
Dares wing the dubious dusk. In rueful gaze 
The cattle stand, and on the scowling heavens 
Cast a deploring eye ; by man forsook, 
Who to the crowded cottage hies him fast, 
Or seeks the shelter of the downward cave. 

'Tis listening fear, and dumb amazement all : 
When to the startled eye the sudden glance 
Appears far south, eruptive through the cloud 
And following slower, in explosion vast, 
The thunder raises his- tremendous voice. 
At first, heard solemn o'er the verge of heaven, 
The tempest growls ; but as it nearer comes, 
And rolls its awful burden on the wind, 
The lightnings flash a larger curve, and more 
The noise astounds : till over head a sheet 
Of livid flame discloses wide ; then shuts, 
And opens wider ; shuts and opens still 
Expansive, wrapping ether in a Maze. 
Follows the loosen'd aggravated roar, 
Enlarging, deepening, mingling ; peal on peal 
Crush'd horrible, convulsing heaven and earth. 

Down comes a deluge of sonorous hail, 
Or prone-descending rain. Wide-rent, the clouds 
Pour a whole flood ; and yet, its flame unquench'd, 
Th' unconquerable lightning struggles through, 
Ragged and fierce, or in red whirling balls, 
And fires the mountain with redoubled rage. 
Black from the stroke, above, the smouldVing pine 
Stands a sad shatterd trunk ; and, stretch'd below 
A lifeless group the blasted cattle lie : 
Here the soft flocks, with that same harmless look 
They wore alive, and ruminating still 
In fancy's eye ; and there the frowning bull. 



SUMMER 93 

And ox half-raised. Struck on the castled cliff. 
The venerable tower ami splry fane 
Resign their aged pride. The gloomy woods 
Start at the flash, and from their deep recess, 
Wide-flaming out, their trembling inmates shake. 
Amid Caernarvon's mountains rages loud 
The repercussive roar: with mighty crush, 
Into the flashing deep, from the rude rocks 
Of Penmanmaur heap'd hideous to the sky, 
Tumble the smitten clifl's ; and Snowden's peak, 
Dissolving, instant yields his wintry load. 
Far seen, the heights of heathy Cheviot blaze, 
And Thule bellows through her utmost isles. 
. Guilt hears appall'd, with deeply-troubled thought. 

And yet not always on the guilty head 

Descends the fated flash. Young Celadon 

And his Amelia were a matchless pair ; 

With equal virtue form'd, and equal grace, 

The same, distinguish'd by their sex alone : 

Hers the mild lustre of the blooming morn, 

And his the radiance of (he risen day. 

They lov'd : but such their guileless passion was, 

As in the dawn of time inform'd the heart 

Of innocence, arid undissembling truth. 

'Twas friendship, heighten'd by the mutual wish, 

The enchanting hope, and sympathetic glow, 

Beam'd from the mutual eye. Devoting all 

To love, each was to each a dearer self; 

Supremely happy in th' awaken'd power 

Of giving joy. Alone, amid the shades, 

Still i:: harmonious intercourse they liv'd 

The rural day, and talk'd the flowing heart, 

Or sigh'd and look'd unutterable things. 
So pass'd their life, a clear united stream. 

By care unruffled ; till, in evil hour, 



94 SUMMER. 

The tempest caught them on the tender walk, 
Heedless how far and where its mazes strayed : 
While, with each other blest, creative love 
Still bade eternal Eden smile around. 
Presaging instant fate, her boson) heav'd 
Unwonted sighs, and stealing oft a look 
Of the big gloom, on Celadon her eye 
Fell tearful, wetting her disorder'd cheek. 
In vain assuring love, and confidence 
In Heaven, repress'd her fear ; it grew, and shook 
Her fame near dissolution. He perceiv'd 
Th' unequal conflict; and as angels look 
On dying saints, his eyes compassion shed, 
With love illumin'd high. " Fear not," he said, 
" Sweet innocence ! thou stranger to offence, 
And inward storm ! He, who yon skies involves 
In frowns of darkness, ever smiles on thee 
With kind regard. O'er thee the secret shaft 
That wastes at midnight, or th' undreaded hour 
Of noon, flies harmless : and that very voice, 
Which thunders terror through the guilty heart, 
With tongues of seraphs whispers peace to thine. 
'Tis safety to be near thee sure, and thus 
To clasp perfection !" From his void embrace, 
(Mysterious Heaven !) that moment, to the ground, 
A blacken'd corse, was struck the beauteous maid. 
But who can paint the lover, as he stood, 
Pierc'd by severe amazement, hating life, 
Speechless, and fix'd in all the death of wo ! 
So, faint resemblance ! on the marble tomb, 
The well-dissembled mourner stooping stands, 
For ever silent, and forever sad. 

As from the face of heaven the shatter'd clouds 
Tumultuous rove, th' interminable sky 
Sublimer swells, and o'er the world expands 



SIMMER. 95 

A purer azure. Through the lighten'd air 
A higher lustre and a clearer calm, 
Diffusive, tremble ; while, as if in sign 
Of danger past, a glittering robe of joy, 
Set oft' abundant by the yellow ray, 
Invests the fields ; and Nature smiles, reviv'd. 

'Tis beauty all, and grateful song around, 
Join'd to the low of kine, and numerous bleat 
Of flocks thick-nibbling through the clover'd vale. 
And shall the hymn be marr'd by thankless Man, 
Most favour'd ; who with voice articulate 
Should lead the chorus of this lower world? 
Shall he, so soon forgetful of the Hand 
That hush'd the thunder, and serenes the sky, 
Extinguish'd feel that spark the tempest wak'd ? 
That sense of powers exceeding far his own, 
Ere yet his feeble heart has lost its fears ? 

Cheer'd by the milder beam, the sprightly youth 
Spced« to the well known pool, whose crystal depth 
A sandy bottom shows." Awhile he stands 
Gazing the inverted landscape, half afraid 
To meditate the blue profound below ; 
Then plunges headlong down the circling flood. 
His ebon tresses and his rosy cheek 
Instant emerge ; and through the obedient wave. 
At each short breathing by his lip repell'd, 
With arms and legs according well, he makes, 
As humour leads, an easy-winding path : 
While from his polish'd sides a dewy light 
Effuses on the pleas'd spectators round. 
This is the purest exercise of health, 
The kind refresher of the summer heats ; 
Nor, when cold Winter keens the brightening flood; 
Would I weak-shivering linger on the brink, 
Thus life redoubles, and is oft prestrv'd, 



96 SUMMER. 

By the bold swimmer, in the swift illapse 

Of accident disastrous. Hence the limbs 

Knit into force ; and the same Roman arm, 

That rose victorious o'er the conquer'd earth. 

First learn'd, while tender, to subdue the wave. 

E'en from the body s pu: sty, the mind 

Receives a secret sympathetic aid. 

Close in the covert of a hazel copse, 

Where winded into pleasing solitudes 

Runs out the rambling dale, young Damon sat, 

Pensive, and pierc'd with love's delightful pangs. 

There to the stream that down the distant rocks 

Hoarse murmuring fell, and plaintive breeze that play'd 

Among the bending willows ; falsely he 

Of Musidora's cruelty complain'd. 

She felt his flame ; but deep within her breast 

In bashful coyness, or in maiden pride, 

The soft return concealed ; save when it stole 

In side-long glances from her downcast eye, 

Or from her swelling soul in stifled sighs. 

Touch'd by the scene, no stranger to his vows, 

He fram'd a melting lay, to try her heart ; 

And, if an infant passion straggled there, 

To call that passion forth. Thrice happy swain ' 

A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate 

Of mighty monarchs, then decided thine. 

For lo ! conducted by the laughing Loves, 

This cool retreat his Musidora sought : 

Warm in her cheek the sultry season glow'd : 

And rob'd in loose array, she came to bathe 

Her fervent limbs in the refreshing stream. 

What shall he do ? In sweet confusion lost, 

And dubious fluttering:?, he awhile remain'd : 

A pure ingenuous elegance of soul, 

A delicate refinement known to few, 



SUMMER. 97 

Perplex'd his breast, and urged him to retire : 
But love forbade. Ye prudes in virtue, say, 
Say, ye severest, what would you have done ? 
Meantime, this fairer nymph than ever blest 
Arcadian stream, with timid eye around 
The banks surveying, stripp'd her beauteous limbs 
To taste the lucid coolness of the flood. 
Ah then ! not Paris on the piny top 
Of Ida panted stronger, when aside 
The rival goddesses the veil divine 
Cast unconfin'd, and gave him all their charms, 
Than, Damon, thou ; as from the snowy leg, 
And slender foot, th' inverted silk she drew ; 
As the soft touch dissolv'd the virgin zone ; 
And, through the parting robe, the alternate breast, 
With youth wild-throbbing, on thy lawless gaze 
In full luxuriance rose. But, desperate youth, 
How durst thou risk the soul-distracting view ? 
As from her naked limbs of glowing white, 
Harmonious swell'd by Nature's finest hand, 
In folds loose floating fell the fainter lawn ; 
And fair expos'd she stood, shrunk from herself, 
With fancy blushing, at the doubtful breeze 
Alarm'd, and starting like the fearful fawn ? 
Then to the flood she rush'd ; the parted flood 
Its lovely guest with closing waves receiv'd ; 
And every beauty softening, ever} 7 grace 
Flushing anew, a mellow lustre shed : 
As shines the lily through (he crystal mild ; 
Or as the rose amid the morning dew, 
Fresh from Aurora's hand more sweetly glows. 
While thus she wanton'd, now beneath the wave 
But ill-conceal'd ; and now with streaming locks, 
That half embrac'd her in a humid veil, 
Rising again the latent Damon drew 
9 



98 SUMMER. 

Such madd'ning draughts of beauty to the soul, 

As for awhile o'erwhelm'd his raptur'd thought 

With luxury too daring. Check'd at last, 

By love's respectful modesty, he deem'd 

The theft profane, if aught profane to love 

Can e'er be deem'd ; and, stuuggling from the shade, 

With headlong hurry fled ; but first these lines, 

Trac'd by his ready pencil, on the bank 

With trembling hand he threw : — " Bathe on, my fair 

Yet unbeheld save by the sacred eye 

Of faithful love ; I go to guard thy haunt, 

To keep from thy recess each vagrant foot, 

And each licentious eye." With wild surprise, 

As if to marble struck, devoid of sense, 

A stupid moment motionless she stood : 

So stands the statue* that enchants the world, 

So bending tries to veil the matchless boast, 

The mingled beauties of exuiting Greece, 

Recovering, swift she flew to find those robes 

Which blissful Eden knew not ; and, array'd 

In careless haste, th' alarming paper snatch'd 

But, when her Damon's well-known hand she saw, 

Her terrors vanish'd, and a softer train 

Of mixt emotions, hard to be describ'd, 

Her sudden bosom seiz'd: shame void of guilt, 

The charming blush of innocence, esteem, 

And admiration of her lover's flame, 

By modesty exalted : e'en a sense 

Of self-approving beauty stole across 

Her busy thought. At length, a tender calm 

Hush'd by degrees the tumult of her soul ; 

And on the spreading beech, that o'er the stream 

Incumbent hung, she with the sylvan pen 

Of rural lovers this confession carv'd 

* The Venus of Medici*. 



SUMMER. 99 

Which soon her Damon kiss'd with weeping joy : 
" Dear youth ! sole judge of what these verses mean, 
By fortune too much favour'd, but by love, 
Alas ! not favour'd less, be still as now 
Discreet : the time may come you need not fly." 
The sun has lost his rage : his downward orb 
Shoots nothing now but animating warmth, 
And vital lustre ; that, with various ray, 
Lights up the clouds, those beauteous robes of heaven. 
Incessant roll'd into romantic shapes, 
The dream of waking fancy. Broad below, 
Cover'd with ripening fruits, and swelling fast 
Into the perfect year, the pregnant earth 
And all her tribes rejoice. Now the soft hour 
Of walking comes : for him who lonely loves 
To seek the distant hills, and there converse 
With Nature ; there to harmonize his heart. 
And in pathetic song to breathe around 
The harmony to others. Social friends, 
Attun'd to happy unison of soul ; 
To whose exalting eye a fairer world, 
Of which the vulgar never had a glimpse, 
Displays its charms ; whose minds are richly fraught 
With philosophic stores, superior light; 
And in whose breast, enthusiastic burns 
Virtue, the sons of interest deem romance ; 
Now called abroad enjoy the falling day : 
Now to the verdant Portico of woods, 
To Nature's vast Lyceum, forth they walk ; 
By that kind School where no proud master reigns, 
The full free converse of the friendly heart, 
Improving and improv'd. Now from the world, 
Sacred to sweet retirement, lovers steal, 
And pour their souls in transport ; which the Sire 
Of love, approving, hears and calls it good. 



100 SUMMER. 

Which way, Amanda, shall we bond our course? 
The choice perplexes. Wherefore should we chooser 
All is the same with thee. Say, shall we wind 
Along the stream ? or walk the smiling mead ? 
Or court the forest glade ? or wander wild 
Among the waving harvest ? or ascend, 
While radiant Summer opens all its pride, 
Thy hill, delightful Shene ?* Here let us sweep 
The boundh-ss landscape : now the raptur'd eye. 
Exulting swift, to huge Augusta send ; 
Now to the Sister-Hillsf that skirt her plain, 
To lofty Harrow now, and now to where 
Majestic Windsor lifts his princely brow. 
In lovely contrast to this glorious view, 
Calmly magnificent, then will we turn 
To where the silver Thames first rural grows. 
There let the feasted eye unwearied stray : 
Luxurious, there, rove through the pendent woods 
That nodding hang o'er Harrington's retreat; 
And, stooping thence to Ham's embowering walks, 
Beneath whose shades in spotless peace retir'd, 
With her the pleasing partner of his heart, 
The worthy Queensbury yet laments his Gay; 
And polished Cornbury woos the willing Muse, 
Slow let us trace the matchless vale of Thames ; 
Fair winding up to where the Muses haunt 
In Twit'nam's bovvers, and for their Pope implore 
The healing God :| to royal Hampton's pile, 
To Clermont's terrac'd height, and Esher's groves ; 
Where in the sweetest solitude, embrac'd 
By the soft windings of the silent mole, 

* The old name of Richmond, signifying, in Saxon, Shining, 
or Splendour. 

t Highgate and Hampstead. 
X In his last 6ickness. 



SUxMMER 101 

From courts and senates Pelham finds repose. 
Enchanting vale ! beyond vvhate'er the Muse 
Has of Achaia or Hesperia sung ! _ 
O vale of bliss ! O softly-swelling hills ! 
On which the Power of Cultivation lies, 
And joys to see the wonders of his toil. 

Heavens! what a goodly prospect spreads around, 
Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns, and spires, 
And glittering towns, and gilded streams, till all 
The stretching landscape into smoke decays ! 
Happy Britannia ! where the Queen of Arts, 
Inspiring vigour, Liberty abroad 
Walks, unconfin'd, e'en to thy furthest cots, 
And scatters plenty with unsparing hand. 

Rich is thy soil, and merciful thy clime ; 
Thy streams unfailing in the summer's drought ; 
Unmatch'd thy guardian oaks ; thy valleys float 
With golden waves ; and on thy mountains flocks 
Bleat numberless ; while roving round their sides, 
Bellow the blackening herds in lusty droves. 
Beneath, thy meadows glow, and rise unquell'd 
Against the mower's scythe. On every hand 
Thy villas shine. Thy country teems with wealth; 
And property assures it to the swain, 
Pleas'd, and unwearied in his guarded toil. 

Full are thy cities with the sons of Art ; 
And trade and joy, in every busy street, 
Mingling are heard : e'en Drudgery himself, 
As at the car he sweats, or dusty hews 
The palace-stone, looks gay. Thy crowded ports 
Where rising masts an endless prospect yield ; 
With labour burn ; and echo to the shouts 
Of hurried sailor, as he hearty waves 
His last adieu ; and loosening every sheet, 
Resigns the spreading vessel to the wind. 
9 * 



102 SUMMER. 

Bold, firm, and graceful, are thy generous youth, 
By hardship sinew'd, and by danger fir'd ; 
Scattering the nations where they go ; and first 
Or on the listed plain, or stormy seas. 
Mild are thy glories too, as o'er the plans 
Of thriving peace thy thoughtful sires preside ; 
In genius, and substantial learning high ; 
For every virtue, every worth, renown'd ; 
Sincere, plain-hearted, hospitable, kind ; 
Yet like the mustering thunder when provok'd, 
The dread of tyrants, and the soul resourc 
Of those that under grim oppression groan. 

Thy sons of glory many ! Alfred thine ; 
In whom the splendour of heroic war, 
And more heroic peace, when govern'd well, 
Combine ; whose hallow'd name the Virtues saint, 
And his own muses love ; the best of kings ! 
With him thy Edwards and thy Henrys shine, 
Names dear to fame ; the first who deep impress'd 
On haughty Gaul the terror of thy arms, 
That awes her genius still. In statesmen thou, 
And patriots, fertile. Thine a steady More, 
Who, with a generous though unshaken zeal, 
Withstood a brutal tyrant's useful rage : 
Like Cato firm, like Aristides just, 
Like rigid Cincinnatus nobly poor ; 
A dauntless soul erect, who smil'd on death. 

Frugal, and wise, a Walsingham is thine, 
A Drake, who made thee mistress of the deep, 
And bore thy name in thunder round the world. 
Then flam'd thy spirit high : but who can speak 
The numerous worthies of the Maiden Reign ? 
In Raleigh mark their every glory mix'd ; 
Raleigh, the scourge of Spain ! whose breast with all 
The sage, the patriot, and the hero burn'd. 



SUMMER. 103 

Nor sunk his vigour, when a coward reign 

The warrior fetter'd, and at last resign'd, 

To glut the vengeance of a vanquish'd foe. 

Then, active still and unrestrain'd, his mind 

Explor'd the vast extent of ages past, 

And with his prison-hours enrich'd the world ; 

Yet found no times, in all the long research, 

So glorious, or so base, as those he prov'd, 

In which he conquer'd, and in which he bled. 

Nor can the Muse the gallant Sidney pass, 

The plume of war! with early laurels crown'd, 

The lover's myrtle, and the poet's bay. 

A Hampden too is thine, illustrious land ! 

Wise, strenuous, firm, of unsubmitting soulj 

Who stemm'd the torrent of a downward age 

To slavery prone, and bade thee rise again, 

In all thy native pomp of freedom bold. 

Bright, at his call, the Age of Men effulg'd, 

Of men on whom late time a kindling eye 

Shall turn, and tyrants tremble while they read. 

Bring every sweetest flower, and let me strew 

The grave where Russel lies ; whose temper'd blood, 

With calmest cheerfulness for thee resign'd, 

Stain'd the sad annals of a giddy reign ; 

Aiming at lawless power, though meanly sunk 

In loose inglorious luxury. With him 

His friend, the British Cassius,* fearless bled; 

Of high determin'd spirit, roughly brave, 

By ancient learning to th' enlighten'd love 

Of ancient freedom warm'd. Fair thy renown 

In awful sages and in noble bards ; 

Soon as the light of dawning Science spread 

Her orient ray, and wak'd the Muses' song. 

* Algernon Sidney. 



104 SUMMER. 

Thine is a Bacon ; hapless in his choice. 
Unfit to stand the civil storm of state, 
And through the smooth barbarity of courts, 
With firm but pliant virtue, forward still 
To urge his course ; him for the studious shade 
Kind Nature form'd ; deep, comprehensive, clear, 
Exact, and elegant ; in one rich soul, 
Plato, the Stagyrite, and Tully join'd. 
The great deliverer he ; who from the gloom 
Of cloister'd monks, and jargon-teaching schools, 
Led forth the true Philosophy, there long 
Held in the magic chain of words and forms, 
And definitions void : he led her forth, 
Daughter of Heaven ! that slow-ascending still, 
Investigating sure the chain of things, 
With radiant finger points to heaven again. 

The generous Ashley* thine, the friend of man ; 
Who scann'd his nature with a brother's eye, 
His weakness prompt to shade, to raise his aim, 
To touch the finer movements of the mind, 
And with the moral beauty charm the heart. 
Why need I name thy Boyle, whose pious search 
Amid the dark recesses of his works, 
The great Creator sought ? and why thy Locke, 
Who made the whole internal world his own ? 
Let Newton, pure intelligence ! whom God 
To mortals lent to trace his boundless works 
From laws sublimely simple, speak thy fame 
In all philosophy. For lofty sense, 
Creative fancy, and inspection keen 
Through the deep windings of the human heart, 
Is not wild Shakspeare thine and Nature's boast ? 
Is not each great, each amiable Muse 

* Anthony Ashley Cooper, Earl of Shaftesbury. 



SUMMER. 105 

Of classic ages in thy Milton met ? 

\ genius universal as his theme ; 

Astonishing as chaos, as the bloom 

Of blowing Eden fair, as heaven sublime ! 

Nor shall my verse, that elder bard forget 
The gentle Spenser, Fancy's pleasing son ; 
"Who, like a copious river, pour'd his song 
O'er all the mazes of enchanted ground : 
Nor thee, his ancient master, laughing sage, 
Chaucer, whose native manners-painting verse, 
Well moraliz'd, shines through the gothic cloud 
Of time and language o'er thy genius thrown. 

May my song soften, as thy daughters I, 
Britannia, hail ! for beauty is their own, 
The feeling heart, simplicity of life, 
And elegance, and taste : the faultless form, 
Shap'd by the hand of harmony ; the cheek, 
Where the live crimson, through the native white 
Soft-shooting, o'er the face diffuses bloom, 
And every nameless grace ; the parted lip, 
Like the red rose-bud moist with morning-dew, 
Breathing delight ; and, under flowing jet, 
Or sunny ringlets, or of circling brown, 
The neck slight-shaded, and the swelling breast 
The look resistless, piercing to the soul, 
And by the soul inform'd, when drest in love 
She sits high-smiling in the conscious eye. 

Island of bliss ! amid the subject seas, 
That thunder round thy rocky coast, set up, 
At once the wonder, terror, and delight, 
Of distant nations ; whose remotest shores 
Can soon be shaken by thy naval arm ; 
Not to be shook thyself, but all assaults 
Battling, as thy hoar cliffs the loud sea-wave. 



106 SUMMER. 

O Thou ! by whose Almighty nod tqe scale 
Of empire rises, or alternate falls. 
Send forth the saving Virtues round the land, 
In bright patrol ; white Peace and social Love 
The tender looking Charity, intent 
On gentle deeds> and shedding tears through smiles 
Undaunted Truth, and Dignity of mind : 
Courage t mpos'd and keen ; sound Temperance, 
Healthful in heart and look; clear Chastity, 
With blushes reddening as she moves along, 
Disorder'd at the deep regard she draws ; 
Rough Industry ; Activity untir'd, 
With copious life inform'd, and all awake ; 
While in the radiant front, superior shines 
That first Paternal virtue, Public Zeal ; 
Who throws o'er all an equal wide survey, 
And, ever musing on the common weal, 
Still labours glorious with some great design. 

Low walks the sun, and broadens by degrees, 
Just o'er the verge of day. The shifting clouds 
Assembled gay, a richly-gorgeous train. 
In all their pomp attend his setting throne. 
Air, earth, and ocean, smile immense. And now, 
As if his weary chariot sought the bowers 
Of Amphitrite, and her tending nymphs, 
(So Grecian fable sung) he dips his orb ; 
Now half-immers'd ; and now a golden curve 
Gives one bright glance, then total disappears. 

For ever running an enchanted round, 
Passes the day, deceitful, vain, and void ; 
As fleets the vision o'er the formful brain, 
This moment hurrying wild th' impassioned soul, 
The next in nothing lost. 'Tis so to him, 
The dreamer of this earth, an idle blank 









SUMMER. 107 

A. sight of horror to the cruel wretch, 

Who all day long in sordid pleasure rollVl, 

Himself a useless load, has squander'd vile, 

Upon his scoundrel train, what might have cheer'd 

A drooping family of modest worth. 

But to the generous still-improving mind, 

That gives the hopeless heart to sing for joy, 

Diffusing kind beneficence around, 

Boastless, as now descends the silent dew ; 

To him the long review of order'd life 

Is inward rapture, only to be felt. 

Confess'd from yonder slow extinguish'd clouds, 
All ether softening, sober Evening takes 
Her wonted station in the middle air ; 
A thousand shadows at her beck. First this 
She sends on earth ; then that of deeper dye 
Steals soft behind ; and then a deeper still, 
In circle following circle, gathers round, 
To close the face of things. A fresher gale 
Begins to wave the wood, and stir the stream, 
Sweeping with shadowy gusts the fields of corn, 
While the quail clamours for his running mate. 
Wide o'er the thistly lawn, as swells the breeze 
A whitening shower of vegetable down 
Amusive floats. The kind impartial care 
Of Nature nought disdains : thoughtful to feed 
Her lowest sons, and clothe the coming year, 
From field to field the feather'd seeds she wings. 

His folded flock secure ,J;he shepherd home 
Hies, merry-hearted ; and by turns relieves 
The ruddy milk-maid of her brimming pail ; 
The beauty whom perhaps his witless heart. 
Unknowing what the joy-mixt anguish means, 
Sincerely loves, by that best language shown 
Of cordial glances, and obliging deeds. 



10S SUMMER. 

Onward they pass, o'er many a panting height, 
And valley sunk, and unfrequented ; where 
At fall of eve the fairy people throng, 
In various game, and revelry, to pass 
The summer night, as village-stories tell. 
But far about they wander from the grave 
Of him, whom his ungentle fortune urg'd 
Against his own sad breast to lift the hand 
Of impious violence. The lonely tower 
Is also shunn'd; whose mournful chambers hold, 
So night-struck Fancy dreams, the yelling ghost. 

Among the crooked lanes, on every hedge, 
The glow-worm lights his gem ; and, through the dark, 
A moving radiance twinkles. Evening yields 
The world to Night ; not in her winter-robe 
Of massy Stygian woof, but loose array'd 
In mantle dun. A faint erroneous ray, 
Glanc'd from th' imperfect surfaces of things, 
Flings half an image on the straining eye ; 
While waving woods, and villages, and streams, 
And rocks, and mountain-tops, that long retain'd 
Th' ascending gleam, are all one swimming scene ; 
Uncertain if beheld. Sudden to heaven 
Thence weary vision turns ; where leading soft 
The silent hours of love, with purest ray 
Sweet Venus shines ; and from her genial rise, 
When daylight sickens till it springs afresh, 
Unrivall'd reigns, the fairest lamp of Night. 

As thus th' effulgence tremulous I drink, 
With cherish'd gaze, the lambent lightnings shoot 
Across the sky ; or horizontal dart 
In wondrous shapes ; by fearful murmuring crowds 
Portentous deem'd. Amid the radiant orbs, 
That more than deck, that animate the sky. 
The life-infusing suns of other worlds ; 



SUMMER. 109 

Lo ! from the dread immensity of space 
Returning, with accelerated course, 
The rushing comet to the sun descends ; 
And as he sinks below the shading earth, 
With awful train projected o'er the heavens, 
The guilty nations tremble. But, above 
Those superstitious horrors that enslave 
The fond sequacious herd, to mystic faith 
And blind amazement prone ; th' enlighten'd few. 
Whose godlike minds Philosophy exalts, 
The glorious stranger hail. They feel a joy 
Divinely great ; they in their powers exult, 
That wondrous force of thought, which mounting spurns 
This dusky spot, and measures all the sky ; 
While, from his far excursion through the wilds 
Of barren ether, faithful to his time, 
They see the blazing wonder rise anew ; 
In seeming terror clad, but kindly bent 
To work the will of all-sustaining Love : 
From his huge vapoury train perhaps to shake 
Reviving moisture on the numerous orbs, 
Through which his long ellipsis winds ; perhaps 
To lend new fuel to declining suns, 
To light up worlds, and feed th' eternal fire. 
With thee, serene Philosophy, with thee, 
And thy bright garland, let me crown my song ; 
Effusive source o"f evidence, and truth ! 
A lustre shedding o'er th' ennobled mind, 
Stronger than summer-noon ; and pure as that, 
Whose mild vibrations sooth the parted soul, 
New to the dawning of celestial day. 
Hence through her nourish'd powers, enlarg'd by thee 
She springs aloft, with elevated pride, 
Above the tangling mass of low desires 
That bind the fluttering crowd ; and, angel-wing'd, 
JO 



110 SUMMER. 

The heights of science and of virtue gaihs, 
Where all is calm and clear ; with Nature round, 
Or in the starry regions, or th' abyss, 
To Reason's and to Fancy's eye display'd : 
The first up-tracing, from the dreary void, 
The chain of causes and effects, to Him, 
The world-producing Essence, who alone 
Possesses being ; while the last receives 
The whole magnificence of heaven and earth, 
And every beauty, delicate or bold, 
Obvious or more remote, with livelier sense, 
Diffusive painted on the rapid mind. 

Tutor'd by thee, hence Poetry exalts 
Her voice to ages ; and informs the page 
With music, image, sentiment, and thought, 
Never to die '. the treasure of mankind ! 
Their highest honour, and their truest joy ! 
Without thee what were unenlighten'd Man ? 
A savage roaming through the woods and wilds, 
In quest of prey ; and with the un fashioned fur 
Rough-clad ; devoid of every finer art, 
And elegance of life. Nor happiness 
Domestic, mix'd of tenderness and care, 
Nor moral excellence, nor social bliss, 
Nor guardian law were his ; nor various skill 
To turn the furrow, or to guide the tool 
Mechanic ; nor the heaven-conducted prow 
Of navigation bold, that fearless braves 
The burning line, or dares the wintry pole ! 
Mother severe of infinite delights ! 
Nothing, save rapine, indolence, and guile, 
And woes on woes, a still-revolving train ! 
Who9e horrid circle had made human life 
Than non-existence worse : but, taught by thee^ 
Otits arfc the plans of policy and peace : 



SUMMER. 1 1 1 

To live like brothers, and conjunctive all 

Embellish life. While thus laborious crowds 

Ply the tough oar. Philosophy directs 

The ruling helm ; or, like the liberal breath 

Of potent heaven, invisible, the sail 

Swells out, and bears the inferior world along. 

Nor to this evanescent speck of earth 
Poorly confin'd, the radiant tracts on high 
Are her exalted range ; intent to gaze 
Creation through ; and, from that full complex 
Of never-ending wonders, to conceive 
Of the Sole Being right, who spoke the Word, 
And Nature mov'd complete. With inward view 
Thence on the ideal kingdom swift she turns 
Her eye ; and instant, at her powerful glance, 
Th' obedient phantoms vanish or appear ; 
Compound, divide, and into order shift, 
Each to his rank, from plain perception up 
To the fair forms of Fancy's fleeting train : 
To reason then, deducing truth from truth ; 
And m tion quite abstract ; where first begins 
The world of spirits, action all, and life 
Unfetter'd, and unmixt. But here the cloud, 
So wills Eternal Providence, sits deep. 
Enough for us to know that this dark state, 
In wayward passions lost, and vain pursuits, 
This Infancy of Being, cannot prove 
The final issue of the works of God ; 
By boundless Love and perfect Wisdom form'd, 
And ever rising with the rising mind. 



THE SEASONS. 



AUTUMN. 



THE ARGUMENT. 

The subject proposed. Addressed to Mr. Onslow. A prospect 
of the fields ready for harvest. Reflections in praise of Industry 
raised by that view. Reaping. A tale relative to it. A har- 
vest storm. Shooting and hunting, their barbarity. A ludicrous 
account of fox-hunting. A view of an orchard. Wall-fruit. A 
vineyard. A description of fogs, frequent in the latter part of 
Autumn : whence a digression, inquiring into the rise of fountains 
and rivers. Birds of season considered, that now shift their ha- 
bitation. The prodigious number of them that cover the northern 
and western isles of Scotland. Hence a view of the country. 
A prospect of the discoloured, fading woods. After a gentle 
dusky day, moonlight. Autumnal meteors. Morning : to which 
succeeds a calm, pure, sunshiny day, such as usually shuts up the 
season. The harvest being gathered in, the country dissolved in 
joy. The whole concludes with a panegyric on a philosophical 
country life. 




By strong- Necessity's supreme command, 
With smiling patience in her looks, she we 
To glean Palemon's fields. 



AUTUMN, 



"AUTUMN. 



Crown'd with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf, 
While Autumn, nodding o'er^the yellow plain, 
Comes jovial on ; the Doric reed once more, 
Well-pleased, I tune. Whate'er the wintry frost 
Nitrous prepar'd ; the various-blossom'd Spring 
Put in white promise forth ; and Summer-suns 
Concocted strong, rush boundless now to view ; 
Full, perfect all, and swell my glorious theme. 

Onslow ! the Muse, ambitious of thy name, 
To grace, inspire, and dignify her song, 
Would from the public voice thy gentle ear 
Awhile engage. Thy noble cares she knows. 
The patriot virtues that distend thy thought, 
Spread on thy front, and in thy bosom glow, 
W r hile listening senates hang upon thy tongue ; 
Devolving through the maze of eloquence 
A roll of periods, sweeter than her song. 
But she too pants for public virtue ; she, 
Though weak of power, yet strong in ardent will, 
Whene'er her country rushes on her heart, 
Assumes a bolder note ; and fondly tries 
To mix the patriot's with the poet's flame. 

When the bright Virgin gives the beauteous days, 
And Libra weighs in equal scales the year ; 
From heaven's high cope the fierce effulgence shook 
Of parting Summer, a serener blue, 



116 AUTUMN. 

With golden light enliven'd, wide invests 

The happy world. Attemper'd suns arise, 

Sweet-beam'd and shedding oft through lucid clouds 

A pleasing calm ; while broad, and brown, below 

Extensive harvests hang the heavy head. 

Rich, silent, deep, they stand ; for not a gale 

Rolls its light billows o'er the bending plain : 

A calm of plenty ! till the ruffled air 

Falls from its poise, and gives the breeze to blow. 

Rent is the fleecy mantle of the sky ; 

The clouds fly different ; and the sudden sun 

By fits effulgent gilds th' illumin'd field, 

And black by fits the shadows sweep along. 

A gaily-chequer'd heart-expanding view, 

Far as the circling eye can shoot around, 

Unbounded tossing in a flood of corn. 

These are thy blessings, Industry ! rough power I 
Whom labour still attends, and sweat, and pain ; 
Yet the kind source of every gentle art, 
And all the soft civility of life : 
Raiser of humankind ! by Nature cast, 
Naked and helpless, out amid the woods 
And wilds, to rude inclement elements ; 
With various seeds of art deep in the mind 
Implanted, and profusely pour'd around 
Materials infinite, but idle all. 
Still unexerted, in th' unconscious breast 
Slept the lethargic powers ; Corruption still, 
Voracious, swallow'd what the liberal hand 
Of bounty scatter'd o'er the savage year : 
And still the sad barbarian, roving, mix'd 
With beasts of prey, or for his acorn-meal 
Fought the fierce tusky boar ; a shivering wretch ! 
Aghast and comfortless, when the bleak north, 
With winter charg'd, let the mixt tempest fly, 



AUTUMN. II 

Hail, rain, and snow, and bitter-breathing frost : 

Then to the shelter of the hut he fled ; 

And the wild season, sordid, pin'd away. 

For home he had not ; home is the resort 

Of love, of joy, of peace, and plenty, where, 

Supporting and supported, polish'd friends, 

And dear relations, mingle into bliss. 

But this the rugged savage never felt, 

E'en desolate in crowds ; and thus his days 

Roll'd heavy, dark, and unenjoy'd along : 

A waste of time ! till Industry approach'd, 

And rous'd him from his miserable sloth ; 

His faculties unfolded ; pointed out, 

Where lavish Nature the directing hand 

Of Art demanded ! show'd him how to raise 

His feeble force by the mechanic powers, 

To dig the mineral from the vaulted earth ; 

On what to turn the piercing rage of fire ; 

On what the torrent, and the gather'd blast ; 

Gave the tall ancient forest to his axe ; 

Taught him to chip the wood, and hew the stone, 

Till by degrees the finish'd fabric rose ; 

Tore from his limbs the blood-polluted fur, 

And wrapped them in the woolly vestment warm ; 

Or bright in glossy silk, and flowing lawn ; 

With wholesome viands filFd his table ; pour'd 

The generous glass around, inspir'd to wake 

The life-refining soul of decent wit : 

Nor stopp'd at barren bare necessity ; 

But still advancing bolder, led him on 

To pomp, to pleasure, elegance, and grace ; 

And, breathing high ambition through his soul, 

Set science, wisdom, glory in his view, 

ind bade him be the Lord of all below. 



118 AUTUMN. 

Then gathering men their natural powers combin'd, 
And form'd a public ; to the general good 
Submitting, aiming, and conducting all. 
For this the Patriot-Council met, the full, 
Tlie free, and fairly represented Whole ; 
For this they plann'd the holy guardian laws, 
Distinguish'd orders, animated arts, 
And with joint force Oppression chaining, set 
Imperial Justice at the helm ; yet still 
To them accountable : nor slavish dream'd 
That toiling millions must resign their weal, 
And all the honey of their search, to such 
As for themselves alone themselves have rais'd. 
Hence every form of cultivated life 
In order set, protected, and inspir'd, 
Into perfection wrought. Uniting all, 
Society grew numerous, high, polite, 
And happy. Nurse of art ! the city rear'd 
In beauteous pride her tower-encircled head ; 
And, stretching street on street, by thousands drew 
From twining woody haunts, or the tough yew 
To bows strong-straining, her aspiring sons. 

Then Commerce brought into the public walk 
The busy merchant ; the big warehouse built ; 
Rais'd the strong crane t, chok'd up the loaded street 
With foreign plenty ; and thy stream, O Thames, 
Larsi;e. gentle, deep, majestic, king of floods ! 
Chose for his grand resort. On either hand, 
Like a long wintry forest, groves of masts 
Shot up their spires ; the bellying sheet between 
Possess'd the breezy void ; the sooty hulk 
Steer'd sluggish on ; the splendid barge along 
Row'd, regular, to harmony ; around, 
The boat, light skimming, stretch'd its oary wings, 
While deep the various voice of fervent toil 



AUTUMN. 119 

From bank to bank increas'd : whence ribb'd with oak, 
To bear the British thunder, black, and bold, 
The roaring vessel rush'd into the main. 

Then, too, the pillar'd dome, magnific, heav'd 
Its ample roof; and Luxury within 
Pour'd out her glitt'ring stores : the canvass smooth, 
With glowing life protuberant, to the view 
Embodied rose ; the statue seem'd to breathe, 
And soften into flesh ; beneath the touch 
Of forming art, imagination flush'd. 

All is the gift of Industry ; whate'er 
Exalts, embellishes, and renders life 
Delightful. Pensive Winter cheer'd by him 
Sits at the social fire, and happy hears 
Th' excluded tempest idly rave along ; 
His harden'd fingers deck the gaudy Spring ; 
Without him Summer were an arid waste, 
Nor to th' Autumnal months could thus transmit 
Those full, mature, immeasurable stores, 
That, waving round, recall my wandering song. 

Soon as the morning trembles o'er the sky, 
And, unperceiv'd, unfolds the spreading day ; 
Before the ripen'd field the reapers stand, 
In fair array ; each by the lass he loves ; 
To bear the rougher part, and mitigate 
By nameless gentle offices her toil. 
At once they stoop and swell the lusty sheaves ; 
While through their cheerful band, the rural talk, 
The rural scandal, and the rural jest, 
Fly harmless ; to deceive the tedious time, 
And steal unfelt the sultry hours awa}'. 
Behind the master walks, builds up the shocks ; 
And, conscious, glancing oft on every side 
His sated eye, feels his heart heave with joy 



1 20 AUTUMN. 

The gleaners spread around, and here and there, 
Spike after spike their scanty harvest pick. 

Be not too narrow, husbandmen ! but fling 
From the full sheaf, with charitable stealth, 
The liberal handful. Think, oh ! grateful think ! 
How good the God of harvest is to you ; 
Who pours abundance o'er your flowing fields ; 
While these unhappy partners of your kind 
"Wide-hover round you, like the fowls of heaver, 
And ask their humble dole. The various turns 
Of fortune ponder ; that your sons may want 
What now, with hard reluctance, faint, ye give. 

The lovely young Lavinia once had friends. 
And Fortune smil'd, deceitful, on her birth. 
For, in her helpless j r ears depriv'd of all, 
Ot' every stay, save Innocence and Heaven, 
She, with her widow'd mother, feeble, old, 
And poor, liv'd in a cottage, far retir'd 
Among the windings of a woody vale ; 
By solitude and deep surrounding shades 
But more by bashful modesty conceal'd. 
Together thus they shunn'd the cruel scorn 
W T hich virtue, sunk to poverty, would meet 
From giddy passion and low-minded pride : 
Almost on Nature's common bounty fed ; 
Like the gay birds that sung them to repose, 
Content, and careless of to-morrow's fare. 
Her form was fresher than the morning rose, 
When the dew wets its leaves ; unstain'd, and pure 
As is the lily, or the mountain snow. 
The modest Virtues mingled in her eyes, 
Still on the ground dejected, darting all 
Their humid beams into the blooming flowers : 
Or when the mournful tale her mother told, 
Of what her faithless fortune promis'd once. 



AUTUMN. 121 

Thrill'd in her thought, they like the dewy star 
Of evening, shone in tears. A native grace 
Sat fair proportion'd on her polish'd limbs, 
Veil'd in a simple robe, their best attire, 
Beyond the pomp of dress ; for loveliness 
Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, 
But is, when unadorn'd, adorn'd the most. 
Thoughtless of beauty, she was Beauty's self, 
Recluse amid the close-embowering woods. 
As in the hollow breast of Appenine, 
Beneath the shelter of encircling hills, • 
A myrtle rises far from human eye, 
And breathes its balmy fragrance o'er the wild ; 
So flourish'd blooming, and unseen by all, 
The sweet Lavinia ; till, at length, compell'd 
By strong Necessity's supreme command, 
With smiling patience in her looks, she went 
To glean Palemon's fields. The pride of swains 
P alemon was, the generous, and the rich ; 
Who led the rural life in all its joy 
And elegance, such as Arcadian song 
Transmits from ancient uncorrupted times ; 
When tyrant custom had not shackled man, 
But free to follow Nature was the mode. 
He then, his fancy with autumnal scenes 
Amusing, chanc'd beside his reaper-train 
To walk, when poor Lavinia drew his eye ; 
Unconscious of her power, and turning quick 
With unaffected blushes from his gaze : 
Vie saw her charming but he saw not half 
The charms her downcast modesty conceal'd. 
That very moment love and chaste desire 
'"Sprung in his bosom, to himself unknown; 
]?or still the world prevail'd, and its dread laugh, 
KVhir>h sosr^e the firm philosopher ^n scorn. 



122 AUTUMN. 

Should his heart own a gleaner in the field ; 
And thus in secret to his soul he sigh'd : — 

" What pity ! that so delicate a form, 
By beauty kindled, where enlivening sense 
And more than vulgar goodness seem to dwell, 
Should be devoted to the rude embrace 
Of some indecent clown ! she looks, methinks, 
Of old Acasto's line ; and to my mind 
Recalls that patron of my happy life, 
From whom my liberal fortune took its rise ; 
Now to the dust gone down ; his houses, lands, 
And once fair-spreading family, dissolv'd. 
'Tis said, that in some lone obscure retreat, 
Urg'd by remembrance sad, and decent pride, 
Far from those scenes which knew their better days, 
His aged widow and his daughter live, 
Whom yet my fruitless search could never find. 
Romantic wish ! would this the daughter were ! 

When, strict inquiring, from herself he found 
She was the same, th rlaughtec of his friend, 
Of bountiful Acasto ; iio can speak 
The mingled passions that surpris'd his heart, 
And through his nerves in shivering transport ranr 
Then blaz'd his smother'd flame, avovv'd, and bold; 
And as he view'd her, ardent, o'er and o'er, 
Love, gratitude, and pity wept at once. 
Confus'd, and frighten'd at his sndden tears, 
Her rising beauties flush'd a higher bloom, 
As thus Palemon, passionate, and just, 
Pour'd out the pious rapture of his soul : 

" And art thou then Acasto's dear remains ? 
She, whom my restless gratitude has sought, 
So long in vain ? O heavens ! the very same. 
The soften'd image of my noble friend ; 
Alive his every look, his every feature, 



AUTUMN. 123 

More elegantly touch'd. Sweeter than Spring! 

Thou sole surviving blossom from the root 

That nourished up my fortune ! say, ah where, 

In what sequester'd desert, hast thou drawn 

The kindest aspect of delighted heaven ? 

Into such beauty spread, and blown so fair ; 

Though Poverty's cold wind, and crushing rain, 

Beat keen, and heavy, on thy tender years ? 

O let me now, into a richer soil, 

Transplant thee safe ! where vernal suns, and showers, 

Diffuse their warmest, largest influence ; 

And of my garden be the pride, and joy ! 

It ill befits thee, oh ! it ill befits 

Acasto's daughter," his, whose open stores. 

Though vast, were little to his ampler heart, 

The father of a country, thus to pick 

The very refuse of those harvest-fields, 

Which from his bounteous friendship I enjoy. 

Then throw that shameful pittance from thy hand, 

But ill applied to such a rugged task ; 

The fields, the master, all, my fair, are thine ; 

If to the various blessings which thy house 

Has on me lavished, thou wilt add that bliss, 

That dearest bliss, the power of blessing thee !" 

Here ceas'd the youth : yet still his speaking eye 
Express'd the sacred triumph of his soul, 
With conscious virtue, gratitude, and love, 
Above the vulgar joy divinely rais'd. 
Nor waited he reply. Won by the charm 
Of goodness irresistible, and all 
In sweet disorder lost, she blush'd consent. 
The news immediate to her mother brought, 
While, piercd with anxious thought, she pin'd away 
The lonely moments for Lavinia's fate ; 
Amaz'd, and scarce believing what she heard, 



124 AUTUMN. 

Joy seiz 5 d her wither'd veins, and one blight gleam 
Of setting life shone on her evening-hours : 
Not less enraptur'd than the happy pair ; 
Who flourish'd long in tender bliss, and rear'd 
A numerous offspring, lovely like themselves ; 
And good, the grace of all the country round. 

Defeating oft the labours of the year, 
The sultry south collects a potent blast. 
At first the groves 'are scarcely seen to stir 
Their trembling tops ; and a still murmur runs 
Along the soft inclining fields of corn. 
But as th' aerial tempest fuller swells, 
And in one mighty stream, invisible, 
Immense, the whole excited atmosphere, 
Impetuous rushes, o'er the sounding world ; 
Strain'd to the root, the stooping forest pours 
A rustling shower of yet untimely leaves. 
High-beat, the circling mountains eddy in, 
From the. bare wild, the dissipated storm, 
And send it in a torrent down the vale. 
Expos'd, and naked, to its utmost rage, 
Through all the sea of harvest rolling round, 
The billowy plain floats wide ; nor can evade, 
Though pliant to the blast, its seizing force ; 
Or whirl'd in air, or into vacant chaff 
Shook waste. And sometimes too a burst of rain, 
Swept from the black horizon, broad, descends 
In one continuous flood. Still over head 
The mingling tempest weaves its gloom, and still 
The deluge deepens ; til t e fields around 
Lie sunk, and flatted, in the sordid wave. 
Sudden, the ditches swell ; the meadows swim, 
Red, from the hills, innumerable streams 
Tumultuous roar ; and high above its banks 
The river lift; before whose rushing tide, 



AUTUMN. 125 

Herds, flocks, and harvests, cottages, and swains, 
Roll mingled down ; all that the winds had spared 
In one wild moment ruin'd ; the big hopes, 
And well-earn'd treasures of the painful year. 

Fled to some eminence, the husbandman, 
Helpless, behol th< miserable wreck 
Driving along ; his drowning ox at once 
Descending, with his labours scatter'd round, t 
He sees ; and instant o'er his shivering thought 
Comes Winter unprovided, and a train 
Of claimant children dear. Ye masters, then, 
Be mindful of the rough laborious hand 
That sinks you soft in elegance and ease ; 
Be mindful of those limbs in russet clad,. 
Whose toil to yours is warmth and graceful pride ; 
And, oh ! be mindful of that sparing board, 
Which covers yours with luxury profuse ; 
Makes your glass sparkle, and your sense rejoice ; 
Nor cruelly demand what the deep rains, 
And all-involving winds, have swept away. 

Here the rude clamour of the sportsman's joy, 
The gun fast thundering, and the winded horn, 
Would tempt the Muse to sing the rural game : 
How in his mid-career, the spaniel struck, 
Stiff, by the tainted gale, with open nose, 
Outstretch'dj and finely sensible, draws full, 
Fearful, and cautious, on the latent prey ; 
As in the sun the circling covey bask 
Their varied plumes, and watchful every way, 
Through the rough stubble turn the secret eye. 
Caught in the meshy snare, in vain they beat 
Their idle wings, entangled more and more : 
Nor on the surges of the boundless air, 
Though borne triumphant, are they safe ; the gun, 
Glanc'd just, and sudden, from the fowler's eye 
11* 



\ 26 AUTUMN. 

O'ertakes their sounding pinions : and again, 
Immediate brings them from the towering wing, 
Dead to the ground ; or drives them wide-dispers'd. 
Wounded, and wheeling various, down the wind. 
These are not subjects for the peaceful Muse, 
Nor will she stain with such her spotless song : 
Then most delighted, when she social sees 
The whole mix'd animal-creation round 
Alive, and happy. 'Tis not joy to her, 
This falsely-cheerful barbarous game of death, 
This rage of pleasure, which the restless youth 
Awakes, impatient with the gleaming morn ; 
When beasts of prey retire, that all night long, 
Urg'd by necessity, had rang'd the dark, 
As if their conscious ravage shunn'd the light, 
Asham'd. Not so the steady tyrant Man, 
Who with the thoughtless innocence of power 
Inflamed, beyond the most infuriate wrath 
Of the worst monster that e'er roamed the waste, 
For sport alone pursues the cruel chase, 
Amid the beamings of the gentle days. 
Upbraid, ye ravening tribes, our wanton rage, 
For hunger kindles you, and lawless want ; 
But lavish fed, in Nature's bounty rolled, 
To joy at anguish, and delight in blood, 
Is what your horrid bosoms never knew. 
Poor is the triumph o'er the timid hare ! 
Scar'd from the corn, and now to some lone seat 
Itetir'd : the rush} 7 fen ; the ragged furze, 
Streteh'd o'er the stony heath ; the stubble chapt ; 
The thistly lawn ; the thick entangled broom ; 
Of the same friendly hue, the wither'd fern ; 
The fallow ground laid open to the sun, 
Concoctive ; and the nodding sandy bank, 
Hung o'er the mazes of the mountain brook 



AUTUMN. 12, 

Vain is her best precaution ; though she sits 
Conceal"*! with folded ears ; unsleeping eyes, 
By nature raisd to take th' horizon in ; 
And head couch'd close betwixt her hairy feet, 
In act to spring away. The scented dew- 
Betrays her early labyrinth ; and deep, 
In scatter'd sullen openings, far behind, 
With every breeze she hears the coming storm. 
But nearer, and more frequent, as it loads 
The sighing gale, she springs amaz'd, and all 
The savage soul ol game is up at once. 
The pack full-opening, various ; the shrill horn, 
Resounded from the hills ; the neighing steed, 
Wild for the chace ; and the loud hunter's shout ; 
O'er a weak, harmless, flying creature, all 
Mix'd in mad tumult, and discordant joy. 

The stag, too, singled from the herd, where long 
lie rang'd the branching monarch of the shades, 
Before the tempest drives. At first in speed 
He, sprightly, puts his faith ; and rous'd by fear, 
Gives all his swift aerial soul to flight; 
Against the breeze he darts, that way the more 
To leave the lessening murderous cry behind : 
Deception short ! though fleeter than the winds 
Blown o'er the keen-air'd mountain by the north, 
He bursts the thickets, glances through the glades, 
And plunges deep into the wildest wood ; 
If slow, yet sure, adhesive to the tract, 
Hot steaming, up behind him come again 
Th' inhuman rout, and from the shadj depth 
Expel him, circling through his every shift. 
He sweeps the forest oft ; and sobbing sees 
The glades, mild opening to the golden day ; 
Where, in kind contest, with his butting friends 
He wont to struggle, or his loves enjoy. 



128 AUTUMN. 

Oil in the full-descending flood he tries 

To lose the scent, and lave his burning sides. 

Oft seeks the herd ; the watchful herd, alarm'd. 

With selfish care avoid a brother's wo. 

What shall he do ? His once so vivid nerves, 

So full of buoyant spirit, now no more 

Inspire the course ; but fainting breathless toil. 

Sick, seizes on his heart : he stands at bay ; 

And puis his last weak refuge in despair. 

The big round tears run down his dappled face ; 

He groans in anguish ; while the growling pack, 

Blood-happy, hang at his fair jutting chest, 

And mark his beauteous chequer'd sides with gore. 

Of this enough. But if the sylvan youth, 

Whose fervent blood boils into violence, 

Must have the chase ; behold, despising flight. 

The rous'd-up lion, resolute, and slow, 

Advancing full on the protended spear, 

And coward-band, that circling wheel aloof. 

Slunk from the cavern, and the troubled wood. 

See the grim wolf; on him his shaggy foe 

Vindictive fix, and let the ruffian die ; 

Or, growling horrid, as the brindled boar 

Grins fell destruction, to the monster's heart 

Let the dart lighten from the nervous arm. 

These Britain knows not ; give, ye Britons, then 
Your sportive fury, pityless, to pour 
Loose on the nightly robber of the fold ; 
Him, from his craggy winding haunts unearth'd, 
Let all the thunder of the chase pursue. 
Throw the broad ditch behind you ; o'e*- the hedge 
High-bound, resistless ; nor the deep morass 
Refuse, hut through the shaking wilderness 
Pick your nice way ; into the perilous flood 
Bear fearless, of the raging instinct full ; 



AUTUMN. 129 

And as you ride the torrent, to the banks 
Your triumph sound sonorous, running round, 
From rock to rock, in circling echoes tost ; 
Then scale the mountains to their woody-tops ; 
Rush down the dangerous steep ; and o'er the lawn, 
In fancy swallowing up the space between, 
Pour all your sp^ed into the rapid game. 
For happy he ! who tops the wheeling chase ; 
Has every maze evolv'd, and every guile 
Disclos'd ; who knows the merits of the pack ; 
Who saw the villain seiz'd and dying hard, 
Without complaint, though by a hundred mouths 
Relentless torn : O glorious he, beyond 
His daring peers ! when the retreating horn 
Calls them to ghostly halls of gray renown, 
With woodland honours grac'd ; the fox's fur, 
Depending decent from the roof; and spread 
Round the drear walls, with antic figures fierce, 
The stag's large front : he then is loudest heard, 
When the night staggers with severer toils ; 
With feats Thessalian Centaurs never knew. 
And their repeated wonders shake the dome. 
But first the fuell'd chimney blazes wide ; 
The tankards foam ; and the strong table groans 
Beneath the smoking sirloin, stretch'd immense 
From side to side ; in which, with desperate knife, 
They deep incision make, and talk the while 
Of England's glory, ne'er to be defac'd, 
While hence they borrow vigour, or amain 
Into the pasty plung'd, at intervals, 
If stomach keen can intervals allow, 
Relating all the glories of the chase. 
Then sated Hunger bids his brother Thirst 
Produce the mighty bowl ; the mighty bowl, 
Swell'd high with fiery juice, steams liberal round 



130 AUTUMN. 

A potent gale ; delicious, as the breath 

Of Maia to the love-sick shepherdess, 

On violets diffus'd ; while soft she hears 

Her panting shepherd stealing to her arms. 

Nor wanting is the brown October, drawn, 

Mature and perfect, from his dark retreat 

Of thirty years ; and now his honest front 

Flames in the light refulgent, not afraid 

E'en with the vineyard's best produce to vie. 

To cheat tne thirsty moments, Whist awhile 

Walks his dull round, beneath a cloud of smoke, 

Wreath'd, fragrant, from the pipe ; or the quick dice, 

In thunder leaping from the box, awake 

The sounding gammon ; while romp-loving miss 

Is haul'd about, in gallantry robust. 

At last these puling idlenesses laid 
Aside, frequent and full, the dry divan 
Close in firm circle ; and set, ardent, in 
For serious drinking. Nor evasion sly, 
Nor sober shift, is to the puking wretch 
Indulg'd apart ; but earnest, brimming bowls 
Lave every soul, the table floating round, 
And pavement, faithless to the fuddled foot. 
Thus as they swim in mutual swill, the talk, 
Vociferous" at once from twenty tongues, 
Reels fast from theme to theme ; from horses, hounds, 
To church or mistress, politics or ghost, 
In endless mazes, intricate, perplex'd. 
Meantime, with sudden interruption, loud, 
Th' impatient catch bursts from the joyous heart ; 
That moment touch'd is every kindred soul ; 
And, opening in a full-mouth'd cry of joy. 
The laugh, the slap, the jocund curse go round ; 
While, from their slumbers shook, the kennel'd hounds 
Mix in the music of the day again. 



AUTUMN. 131 

As when the tempest, that has vex'd the deep 
The dark night long, with fainter murmurs falls ; 
So gradual sinks their mirth. Their feeble tongues, 
Unable to take up the cumbrous word, 
Lie quite dissoiv'd. Before their maudlin eyes 
Seem dim, and blue, the double tapers dance, 
Like the sun wading through the misty sky. 
Then, sliding soft, they drop. ConfusM above, 
Glasses and bottles, pipes and gazetteers, 
As if the table e'en itself was drunk, 
Lie a wet broken scene ; and wide, below, 
Is heap'd the social slaughter : where astride 
The lubber Power in filthy triumph sits, 
Slumbrous, inclining still from side to side, 
And steeps them drench'd in potent sleep till morn. 
Perhaps some doctor of tremendous paunch, 
Awful and deep, a black abyss of drink, 
Outlives them all ; and from his buried flock 
Retiring, full of rumination sad, 
Laments the weakness of these latter times. 
But if the rougher sex by this fierce sport 
Is hurried wild, let not such horrid joy 
E'er stain the bosom of the British fair. 
Far be the spirit of the chase from them ! 
Uncomely courage, unbeseeming skill ; 
To spring the fence, to rein the prancing steed ; 
The cap, the whip, the masculine attire, 
In which they roughen to the sense, and all 
The winning softness of their sex is lost. 
In them 'tis graceful to dissolve at wo ; 
With every motion, every word, to wave 
Quick o'er the kindling cheek the ready blush ; 
And from the smallest violence to shrink 
Unequal, then the loveliest in their fears : 



132 AUTUMN. 

And by this silent adulation, soft, 

To their protection more engaging Man. 

O may their eyes no miserable sight, 
Save weeping lovers, see ; a nobler game, 
Through love's enchanting wiles pursued, yet fled, 
In chase ambiguous. May their tender limbs 
Float in the loose simplicity of dress ; 
And, fashion'd all to harmony, alone 
Know they to seize the captivated soul, 
In rapture warbled from love-breathing lips ; 
To teach the lute to languish ; with smooth step, 
Disclosing motion in its every charm, 
To swim along, and swell the mazy dance; 
To train the foliage o'er the snowy lawn ; 
To guide the pencil, turn the tuneful page ; 
To lend new flavour to the fruitful year, 
And heighten Nature's dainties ; in their race 
To rear their graces into second life ; 
To give society its highest taste ; 
Well-order'd home, man's best delight to make, 
And by submissive wisdom, modest skill, 
With every gentle care-eluding art, 
To raise the. virtues, animate the bliss, 
And sweeten all the toils of human life : 
This be the female dignity, and praise. 

Ye swains, now hasten to the hazel-bank; 
Where, down yon dale, the wildly-winding brook 
Falls hoarse from steep to steep. In close array, 
Fit for the thickets and the tending shrub, 
Ye virgins come. For you their latest song 
The woodlands raise ; the clustering nuts for you 
The lover finds amid the secret shade ; 
And, where they burnish on the topmost bough, 
With active vigour crushes down the tree. : 



AUTUMN. 133 

Or shakes them ripe from the resigning huskj 
A glossy shower, and of an ardent brown, 
As are the ringlets of Melinda's hair : 
Melinda ! form'd with every grace complete ; 
Yet these neglecting, above beauty wise, 
And far transcending such a vulgar praise. 

Hence from the busy joy-resounding fields, 
In cheerful error, let us tread the maze 
Of Autumn, unconfin'd ; and taste, reviv'd, 
The breath of orchard big with bending fruit. 
Obedient to the breeze and beating ray, 
From the deep-loaded bough a mellow shower 
Incessant melts away. The juicy pear 
Lies, in a soft profusion, scatter'd round. 
A various sweetness swells the gentle race ; 
By Nature's all-refining hand prepar'd ; 
Of temper'd sun, and water, earth, and air. 
In ever-changing composition mix'd. 
Such, falling frequent through the chiller night, 
The fragrant stores, the wide projected heaps 
Of apples, which the lusty handed Year, 
Innumerous, o'er the blushing orchard shakes 
A various spirit, fresh, delicious, keen, 
Dwells in their gelid pores ; and, active, points 
The piercing cider for the thirsty tongue : 
Thy native theme, and boon inspirer too, 
Phillips, Pomona's bard ! the second thou 
Who nobly durst, in rhyme-unfetter'd verse, 
With British freedom sing the British song '- 
How, from Silurian vats, high-sparkling wines 
Foam in transparent floods ; some strong, to cheer 
The wintry revels of the labouring hind ; 
And tasteful some, to cool the summer hours. 

In this glad season, while his sweetest beams 
The sun sheds equal o'er the meeken'd day 5 
12 



134 AUTUMN. 

Oh lose me in the green delightful walks 

Of, Dodington, thy seat, serene and plain ; 

Where simple Nature reigns ; and every view, 

Diffusive, spreads the pure Dorsetian downs, 

In boundless prospect ; yonder shagg'd with wood, 

Here rich with harvest, and there white with flocks! 

Meantime the grandeur of thy lofty dome, 

Far-splendid, seizes on the ravisb'd eye. 

New beauties rise with each revolving day ; 

New columns swell ; and still the fresh Spring finds 

New plants to quicken, and new groves to green. 

Full of thy genius all ! the Muse's seat : 

Where in the secret bower, and winding walk, 

For virtuous Young and thee they twine the bay 

Here wandering oft, fir'd with the restless thirst 

Of thy applause, I solitary court 

Th' inspiring breeze ; and meditate the book 

Of Nature ever open ; aiming thence, 

Warm from the heart, to learn the moral song. 

Here, as I steal along the sunny wall, 

Where Autumn basks, with fruit empurpled deep, 

My pleasing theme continual prompts my thought : 

Presents the downy peach ; the shining" plum ; 

The ruddy, fragrant nectarine ; and dark, 

Beneath his ample leaf, the luscious fig. 

The vine too here her curling tendrils shoots ; 

Hangs out her clusters, glowing to the south ; 

And scarcely wishes for a warmer sky. 

Turn we a moment Fancy's rapid flight 
To vigorous soils, and climes of fair extent ; 
Where, by the potent sun elated high, 
The vineyard swells refulgent on the day ; 
Spreads o'er the vale ; or up the mountain climbs, 
Profuse ; and drinks amid the sunny rocks, 
From cliff to cliff increas'd, the heighten'd blaze. 



AUTUMN. 135 

Low bend the weighty boughs. The clusters clear, 
Half through the foliage seen, or ardent flame, 
Or shine transparent ; while perfection breathee 
White o'er the turgent film the living dew. 
As thus they brighten with exalted juice, 
Touch'd into flavour by the mingling ray ; 
The rural youth and virgins o'er the field, 
Each fond for each to cull th' autumnal prime, 
Exulting rove and speak the vintage nigh. 
Then comes the crushing swain ; the country floats, 
And foams unbounded with the mashy flood ; 
That by degrees fermented, and refin'd, 
Round the rais'd nations pours the cup of joy : 
The claret smooth, red as the lip we press 
In sparkling fancy, while we drain the bowl ; 
The mellow-tasted burgundy ; and quick, 
As is the wit it gives, the gay champaign. 

Now, by the cool declining year condens'd, 
Descend the copious exhalations ; check'd 
As up the middle sky unseen they stole ; 
And roll the doubling fogs around the hill. 
No more the mountain, horrid, vast, sublime, 
Who pours a sweep of rivers from his sides, 
And high between contending kingdoms rears 
The rocky long division, fills the view 
With great variety ; but in a night 
Of gathering vapour, from the baffled sense 
Sinks dark and dreary. Thence expanding far, 
The huge dusk, gradual, swallows up the plain ; 
Vanish the woods ; the dim-seen river seems 
Sullen, and slow, to roll the misty wave. 
E'en in the height of noon oppress'd, the sun 
Sheds weak, and blunt his wide refracted ray ; 
Whence glaring oft, with many a broaden'd orb, 
He frights the nations* Indistinct on earth 



136 AUTUMN. 

Seen through the turbid air, beyond the life 
Objects appear ; and, wildered o'er the waste 
The shepherd stalks gigantic. Till at last 
Wreath'd dun around, in deeper circles still 
Successive closing, sits the general fog 
Unbounded o'er the world ; and, mingling thick, 
A formless gray confusion covers all. 
As when of old (so sung the Hebrew bard) 
Light, uncollected, through the chaos urged 
Its infant way ; nor Order yet had drawn 
His lovely train from out the dubious gloom. 

These roving mists, that constant now begin 
To smoke along the hilly country, these, 
With weighty rains, and melted Alpine snows, 
The mountain-cisterns fill, those ample stores 
Of water, scoop'd among the hollow rocks ; 
Whence gush the streams, the ceaseless fountains play, 
And their unfailing wealth the rivers draw. 
Some sages say, that where the numerous wave 
For ever lashes the resounding shore, 
Drill'd through the sandy stratum, every way, 
The waters with the sandy stratum rise ; 
Amid whose angles infinitely strain'd, 
They joyful leave their jaggy salts behind, 
And clear and sweeten, as they soak along. 
Nor stops the restless fluid, mounting still, 
Though oft amidst th' irriguous vale it springs ; 
But to the mountain courted by the sand, 
That leads it darkling on in faithful maze, 
Far from the parent-main, it boils again 
Fresh into day ; and all the glittering hill 
Is bright with spouting rills. But hence this vain 
Amusing dream ! why should the waters love 
To take so far a journey to the hills, 



AUTUMN. 137 

When the sweet valleys offer to their toil 

Inviting quiet, and a nearer bed ? 

Or if, by blind ambition led astray, 

They must aspire ; why should they sudden stop 

Among the broken mountain's rushy dells, 

And, ere they gain its highest peak, desert 

Th' attractive sand that charm'd their course so 2ong 

Besides, the hard agglomerating salts, 

The spoil of ages, would impervious choke 

Their secret channels ; or, by slow degrees, 

High as the hills protrude the swelling vales : 

Old Ocean too, suck'd through the porous globe, 

Had long ere now forsook his horrid bed, 

And brought Deucalion's watery times again. 

Say then, where lurk the vast eternal springs, 
That, like creating Nature, lie conceal'd 
From mortal eye, yet with their lavish stores 
Refresh the globe, and all its joyous tribes ? 
O thou pervading Genius, given to man, 
To trace the secrets of the dark abyss ! 
O lay the mountains bare; and wide display 
Their hidden structure to th' astonish'd view ; 
Strip from the branching Alps their piny load ; 
The huge encumbrance of horrific woods 
From Asian Taurus, from Imaus stretch'd 
Athwart the roving Tartar's sullen bounds ; 
Give opening Hemus to my searching eye, 
And high Olympus pouring many a stream. 
O from the sounding summits of the north, 
The Dofrine hills, through Scandinavia roll'd 
To furthest Lapland and the frozen main ; 
From lofty Caucasus, far seen by those 
Who in the Caspian and black Euxine toil ; 
From cold Riphean rocks, which the wild Russ 
12* 



138 AUTUMN. 

Believes the stony girdle* of the world : 

And all the dreadful mountains, wrap'd in storm, 

Whence wide Siberia draws her only floods ; 

sweep the eternal snows, hung o'er the deep, 
That ever works beneath his sounding base, 
Bid Atlas, propping heaven, as poets feign, 
His subterranean wonders spread ; unveil 
The miny caverns, blazing on the day, 

Of Abyssinia's cloud-compelling cliffs, 
And of the bending Mountains of the Moon !| 
O'ertopping all these giant sons of earth, 
Let the dire Andes, from the radiant line 
Stretch'd to the stormy seas that thunder round 
The southern pole, their hideous deeps unfold. 
Amazing scene ! behold, the glooms disclose, 

1 see the rivers in their infant beds ; 

Deep, deep, I hear them labouring to get free. 
I see the leaning strata artful rang'd ; 
The gaping fissures to receive the rains, 
The melting snows, and ever-dripping fog.«. 
Strew'd bibulous above I see the sands, 
The pebbly gravel next, the layers then 
Of mingled moulds, of more retentive earths, 
The gutter'd rocks and mazy running clefts ; 
That while the stealing moisture they transmit, 
Retard its motion, and forbid its waste. 
Beneath th' incessant weeping of these drains, 
I see the rocky siphons stretch'd immense ; 
The mighty reservoirs, of harden'd chalk, 
Or stiff compacted clay, capacious form'd. 
O'erflovving thence, the congregated stores, 

* The Muscovites call the Riphean Mountains Weliki Camony- 
poiis ; that is, the great stony girdle : because they suppose them 
to encompass the whole earth. 

t A range of mountains in Africa, that surround almost all 
Monomotapa. 



AUTUMX. 139 

The crystal treasures of the liquid world, 

Through the stirr'd sands a bubbling passage burst. 

And welling out, around the middle steep, 

Or from the bottoms of the bosom'd hills, 

In pure effusion flow. United, thus, 

Th' exhaling sun, the vapour-burden'd air, 

The gelid mountains, that to rain condens'd 

These vapours in continual current draw, 

And send them, o'er the fair-divided earth, 

In bounteous rivers to the deep again ; 

A social commerce hold, and firm support 

The full-adjusted harmony of things. 

When Autumn scatters his departing gleams, 
Warn'd of approaching Winter, gather'd, play 
The swallow-people ; and toss'd wide around. 
O'er the calm sky, in convolution swift, 
The feather'd eddy floats : rejoicing once. 
Ere to their wintry slumbers they retire ; 
In clusters clung beneath the mouldering bank, 
And where, unpierc'd by frost, the cavern sweats. 
Or rather into warmer climes conveyed, 
With other kindred birds of season, there 
They twitter cheerful, till the vernal months 
Invite them welcome back : for, thronging, now 
Innumerous wings are in commotion all. 

Where the Rhine loses his majestic force 
In Belgian plains, won from the raging deep, 
By diligence amazing, and the strong 
Unconquerable hand of Liberty, 
The stork assembly meets ; for many a day, 
Consulting deep, and various, ere they take 
Their arduous voyage through the liquid sky. 
And now their route design'd, their leaders chose, 
Their tribes adjusted, clean'd their vigorous wrngs ; 
And many a circle, many a short essay 



140 AUTUMN. 

Wheel'd round and round, in congregation full 
The figur'd flight ascends ; and riding high 
Th' aerial billows, mixes with the clouds. 
"Or where the Northern ocean, in vast whirls, 
Boils round the naked melancholy isles 
Of furthest Thule, and th' Atlantic surge 
Pours in among the stormy Hebrides ; 
Who can recount what transmigrations there 
Are annual made ? what nations come and go ? 
And how the living clouds on clouds arise ? 
Infinite wings ! till all the plume dark air, 
And rude resounding shore, are one wild cry. 

Here the plain harmless native, his small flock,- 
And herd diminutive of many hues, 
Tends on the little island's verdant swell, 
The shepherd's sea-girt reign ; or, to the rocks 
Dire-clinging, gathers his ovarious food ! 
Or sweeps the fishy shore ! or treasures up 
The plumage, rising full, to form the bed 
Of luxury. And here awhile the Muse, 
High hovering o'er the broad cerulean scene, 
Sees Caledonia, in romantic view : 
Her airy mountains, from the waving main, 
Invested with a keen diffusive sky, 
Breathing the soul acute : her forests huge, 
Incult, robust, and tall, by Nature's hand 
Planted of old ; her azure lakes between, 
Pour'd out extensive, and of watery wealth 
Full ; winding deep, and green, her fertile vales ; 
With many a cool translucent brimming flood 
Wash'd lovely, from the Tweed (pure parent stream, 
Whose pastoral banks first heard my Doric creed, 
Wi*h, sylvan Jed, thy tributary brook) 
To where the north-inflated tempest foams 
O'er Orca's or Betubium's highest peak ; 



AUTUMN. 141 

Nurse of a people, in Misfortune's school 

Train'd up to hardy deeds ; soon visited 

By Learning, when before the Gothic rage. 

She took her western flight. A manly race, 

Of unsubmitting spirit, wise and brave ; 

Who still through bleeding ages struggled hard, 

(As well unhappy Wallace can attest, 

Great patriot-hero ! ill-requited chief!) 

To hold a generous undiminish'd state ; 

Too much in vain ! Hence of unequal bounds 

Impatient, and by tempting glory borne 

O'er every land ; for every land their life 

Has flow'd profuse, their piercing genius plann'd, 

And swell'd the pomp of peace their faithful toil. 

As from their own clear north in radiant streams, 

Bright over Europe bursts the boreal morn. 

Oh ! is there not some patriot, in whose power 
That best, that godlike luxury is plac'd, 
Of blessing thousands, thousands yet unborn, 
Through late posterity ? some, large of soul, 
To cheer dejected industry ? to give 
A double harvest to the pining swain ? 
And teach the labouring hand the sweets of toil ? 
How, by the finest art, the native robe 
To weave ; how, white as hyperborean snow, 
To form the lucid lawn ; with vent'rous oar 
How to dash wide the billow ; nor look on, 
Shamefully passive, while Batavian fleets 
Defraud us of the glittering finny swarms, 
That heave our friths, and crowd upon our shores ? 
How all enlivening trade to rouse, and wing 
The prosperous sail, from every growing port, 
Uninjur'd, round the sea-encircled globe ; 
And thus, in soul united as in name, 
Bid Britain reign the mistress of the deep ? 



142 AUTUMN. 

Yes, there are such. And full on thee, Argyle, 
Her hope, her stay, her darling, and her boast, 
From her first patriots and her heroes sprung, 
Thy fond imploring country turns her eye ; 
In thee, with all a mother's triumph, sees 
Her every virtue, every grace combin'd ; 
Her genius, wisdom, her engaging turn ; 
Her pride of honour, and her courage tried, 
Calm, and intrepid, in the very throat 
Of sulphurous war, on Tenier's dreadful field. 
Nor less the palm of peace inwreaths thy brow : 
For, powerful as thy sword, from thy rich tongue 
Persuasion flows, and wins the high debate ; 
While mix'd in thee combine the charm of youth, 
The force of manhood, and the depth of age. 
Thee, Forbes, too, whom every worth attends, 
As truth sincere, as weeping friendship kind ; 
Thee, truly generous, and in silence great, 
Thy country feels through her reviving arts, 
Plann'd by thy wisdom, by thy soul inform'd ; 
And seldom has she known a friend like thee. 

But see the fading many-colour'd woods, 
Shade deepening over shade, the country round 
Imbrown ; a crowded umbrage, dusk, and dun. 
Of every hue, from wan declining green 
To sooty dark. These now the lonesome Muse, 
Low-whispering, lead into their leaf-strown walks 
And give the Season in its latest view. 

Meantime, light-shadowing all, a sober calm 
Fleeces unbounded ether ; whose least wave 
Stands tremulous, uncertain where to turn 
The gentle current: while illumin'd wide, 
The dewy-skirted clouds imbibe the sun. 
And through their lucid veil his soften'd force 
Shed o'er the peaceful world. Then is the time, 



AUTUMN. 143 

For those whom Wisdom and whom Nature charm, 
To steal themselves from the degenerate crowd, 
And soar above this little scene of things ; 
To tread low-thoughted Vice beneath their feet ; 
To sooth the throbbing passions into peace ; 
And woo lone Quiet in her silent walks. 

Thus solitary, and in pensive guise, 
Oft let me wander o'er the russet mead, 
And through the sadden'd grove, where scarce is heard 
One dying strain to cheer the woodman's toil. 
Haply some widow'd songster pours his plaint, 
Far, in faint warblings, through the tawny copse : 
While congregated thrushes, linnets, larks, 
And each wild throat, whose artless strains so late 
Swell'd all the music of the swarming shades, 
Robb'd of their tuneful souls, now shivering sit 
On the dead tree, a dull despondent flock ; 
With not a brightness waving o'er their plumes, 
And nought save chattering discord in their note. 
O let not, aim'd from some inhuman eye, 
The gun, the music of the coming year, 
Destroy ; and harmless, unsuspecting harm, 
Lay the weak tribes, a miserable prey, 
In mingled murder, fluttering on the ground. 

The pale descending year, yet pleasing still, 
A gentler mood inspires ; for now the leaf 
Incessant rustles from the mournful grove ; 
Oft startling such as, studious, walk below. 
And slowiy circles through the waving air. 
But should a quicker breeze amid the boughs 
Sob, o'er the sky the leafy deluge streams ; 
Till chok'd, and matted with the dreary shower, 
The forest-walks, at every rising gale, 
Roll wide the wither'd waste, and whistle bleak. 
Fled is the blasted verdure of the fields : 



144 AUTUMN. 

And, shrunk into their beds, the flowery race 
Their sunny robes resign. E'en what remain'd 
Of stronger fruits, falls from the naked tree ; 
And woods, fields, gardens, orchards, all around 
The desolated prospect thrills the soul. 

He comes '. he comes ! in every breeze the Power 
Of Philosophic Melancholy comes! 
His near approach the sudden-starting tear, 
The glowing cheek, the mild dejected air, 
The soften'd feature, and the beating heart, 
Pierc'd deep with many a virtuous pang, declare^ 
O'er all the soul his sacred influence breathes ! 
Inflames imagination ; through the breast 
Infuses every' tenderness ; and far 
Beyond him earth exalts the swelling thought. 
Ten thousand thousand fleet ideas, such 
As never mingled with the vulgar dream, , 
Crowd fast into the mind's creative eye. 
As fast the correspondent passions rise, 
As varied, and as high. Devotion rais'd 
To rapture, and divine astonishment; 
The love of Nature unconfin'd, and, chief, 
Of human race; the large ambitious wish, 
To make them blest ; the sigh for suffering worth 
Lost in obscurity ; the noble scorn 
Of tyrant-pride ; the fearless great resolve ; 
The wonder which the dying patriot draws, 
Inspiring glory through remotest time ; 
Th' awaken'd throb for virtue, and for fame ; 
The sympathies of love, and friendship dear ; 
With all the social offspring of the heart. 

Oh ! bear me then to vast embowering shades ; 
To twilight groves, and visionary vales ; 
To weeping grottos, and prophetic glooms ; 
Where an?el forms athwart the solemn dusk. 



AUTUMN. 14-J 

Tremendous sweep, or seem to sweep along ; 
And voices more than human, through the void 
Deep sounding, seize the' enthusiastic ear ! 

Or is this gloom too much ? Then lead, ye powers. 
That o'er the garden and the rural seat 
Preside, which shining through the cheerful land 
In countless numbers bless'd Brittannia sees ; 
O, lead me to the wide extended walks, 
The fair majestic paradise of Stowe I* 
Not Persian Cyrus on Ionia's shore 
E'er saw such silvan scenes ; such various art 
By genius fired, such ardent genius tamed 
By cool judicious art ; that, in the strife, 
All-beauteous Nature fears to be undone. 
And there, O Pitt, thy country's early boast, 
There let me sit beneath the shelter'd slopes, 
Or in that Templet where, in future times, 
Thou well shalt merit a distinguish'd name ; 
And, with thy converse bless'd, catch the last smiles 
Of Autumn beaming o'er the yellow woods. 
While there with thee the' enchanted round I walk, 
The regulated wild, gay Fancy then 
Will tread in thought the groves of attic land ; 
Will from thy standard taste refine her own, 
Correct her pencil to the purest truth 
Of Nature, or, the unimpassion'd shades 
Forsaking, raise it to the human mind. 
Or if hereafter she, with juster hand, 
Shall draw the tragic scene, instruct her, thou, 
To mark the varied movements of the heart, 
What every decent character requires, 
And every passion speaks : O through her strain 
*The seat of Lord Cobham. 
\ The Temple of Virtue in Stowe Gardens, 
13 






146 AUTUMN. 

Breathe thy pathetic eloquence ! that moulds 
Th' attentive senate, charms, persuades, exalts, 
Of honest Zeal th' indignant lightning throws, 
And shakes Corruption on her venal throne. 

While thus we talk, and through Elysian vales 
Delighted rove, perhaps a sigh escapes ; 
What pity, Cohham, thou thy verdant files 
Of order d trees shouldst here inglorious range, 
Instead of squadrons naming o'er the field, 
And long embattled hosts ; when the proud foe, 
The faithless vain disturber of mankind, 
Insulting Gaul, has rous'd the world to war ; 
When keen, once more, within their bounds to press 
Those polish'd robbers, those ambitious slaves, 
The British youth would hail thy wise command, 
Thy temper'd ardour and thy vet'ran skill. 

The western sun withdraws the shorten'd day ; 
And humid Evening, gliding o'er the sky, 
In her chill progress, to the ground condens'd 
The vapour throws. Where creeping waters ooze, 
Where marshes stagnate, and where rivers wind, 
Cluster the rolling fogs, and swim along 
The dusky-mantled lawn. Meanwhile the Moon 
Full-orb'd, and breaking through the scatter'd clouds. 
Shows her broad visage in the crimson'd east ; 
Turn'd to the sun direct, her spotted disk, 
Where mountains rise, umbrageous dales descend. 
And caverns deep, as optic tube descries, 
A smaller earth gives us his blaze again, 
Void of its flame, and sheds a softer day. 
Now through the passing cloud she seems to stoop, 
Now up the pure cerulean rides sublime. 
Wide the pale deluge floats ; and streaming mild 
O'er the sky'd mountain to the shadowy vale, 
While rocks and floods reflect the quivering gleam. 



AUTUMN. 147 

The whole air whitens with a boundless tide 
Of silver radiance, trembling round the world. 

But when half blotted from the sky her light. 
Fainting, permits the starry fires to burn 
With keener lustre through the depth of heaven ; 
Or near extinct her deaden'd orb appears, 
And scarce appears, of sickly beamless white ; 
Oft in this season, silent from the north 
A blaze of meteors shoots : ensweeping first 
The lower skies, they all at once converge 
High to the crown of heaven, and all at once 
Relapsing quick, as quickly reascend, 
And mix, and thwart, extinguish, and renew, 
All ether coursing in a maze of light. 

From look to look, contagious through the crowd. 
The panic runs, and into wondrous shapes 
Th' appearance throws : armies in meet array, 
Throng'd with aerial spears, and steeds of fire ; 
Till the long lines of full-extended war 
In bleeding fight commixt, the sanguine flood 
Rolls a broad slaughter o'er the plains of heaven. 
As thus they scan the visionary scene, 
On all sides swells the superstitious din, 
Incontinent ; and busy frenzy talks 
Of blood and battle ; cities overturn'd ; 
And late at night in swallowing earthquake sunk, 
Or hideous wrapt in fierce ascending flame ; 
Of sallow famine, inundation, storm ; 
Of pestilence, and every great distress ; 
Empires subvers'd, when ruling fate has struck 
Th' unalterable hour : e'en Nature's self 
Is deem'd to totter on the brink of time. 
Not so the man of philosophic eye, 
And inspect sage ; the waving brightness he 
Curious surveys, inquisitive to know 



148 AUTUMN. 

The causes, and materials, yet unfix'd, 
Of this appearance beautiful and new. 

Now black, and deep, the night begins to fall, 
A shade immense ! Sunk in the quenching gloom, 
Magnificent and vast, are heaven and earth. 
Order confounded lies ; all beauty void ; 
Distinction lost ; and gay variety 
One universal blot : such the fair power 
Of lighi, to kindle and create the whole. 
Drear is the state of the benighted wretch, 
Who then, bewilder'd, wanders through the dark, 
Full of pale fancies, and chimeras huge ; 
Nor visited by one directive ray, 
From cottage streaming, or from airy hall. 
Perhaps impatient as he stumbles on, 
Struck from the root of slimy rushes, blue, 
The wild-fire scatters round ; or gather'd trails 
A length of flame deceitful o'er the moss : 
Whither decoy'd by the fantastic blaze, 
Now lost and now renew'd, he sinks absorpt, 
Rider and horse, amid the miry gulf; 
While still, from day to day, his pining wife, 
And plaintive children, his return await, 
In wild conjecture lost. At other times, 
Sent by the better Genius of the night, 
Innoxious, gleaming on the horse's mane, 
The meteor sits ; and shows the narrow path, 
That winding leads through pits of death, or else 
Instructs him how to take the dangerous ford. 

The lengthen'd night elapsed, the Morning shines 
Serene, in all her dewy beauty bright ; 
Unfolding fair the last autumnal day. 
And now the mounting sun dispels the fog ; 
The rigid hoar-frost melts before his beam ; 



AUTUMN. 149 

And hung on every spray, on every blade 

Of grass, the myriad dew-drops twinkle round. 

Ah, see where robb'd, and murder'd, in that pit 
Lies the still heaving hive ! at evening snatch'd, 
Beneath the cloud of guilt-concealing night, 
And fix'd o'er sulphur : while, not dreaming ill, 
The happy people, in their waxen cells, 
Sat tending public cares, and planning schemes 
Of temperance, for Winter poor ; rejoiced 
To mark, full flowing round, their copious stores. 
Sudden the dark oppressive steam ascends ; 
And, us'd to milder scents, the tender race, 
By thousands, tumble from their honey'd domes, 
Convolv'd, and agonizing in the dust. 
And was it then for this you roam'd the Spring, 
Intent from flower to flower ? for this you toil'd 
Ceaseless the burning Summer-heats away ? 
For this in Autumn search'd the blooming waste, 
Nor lost one sunny gleam, for this sad fate ? 
Man ! tyrannic lord ! how long, how long, 
Shall prostrate Nature groan beneath your rage, 
Awaiting renovation? When oblig'd, 
Must you destroy ? Of their ambrosial food 
Can you not borrow ; and, in just return, 
Afford them shelter from the wintry winds ? 
Or, as the sharp year pinches, with their own 
Again regale them on some smiling day? 
See where the stonv bottom of their town 
Looks desolate, and wild ; with here and there 
A helpless number, who the ruin'd state 
Survive, lamenting weak, cast out to death. 
Thus a proud city, populous and rich, 
Full of the works of peace, and high in joy 
At theatre or feast, or sunk in sleep, 
(As late, Palermo, was thy fate,) is seiz'd 
IS* 



150 AUTUMN. 

By some dread earthquake ; and convulsive hurl'd 
Sheer from the black foundation, stench-involv'd, 
Into a gulf of blue sulphureous flame. 

Hence every harsher sight ! for now the day, 
O'er heaven and earth diffus'd, grows warm and high, 
Infinite splendour ! wide investing all. 
How still the breeze ! save what the filmy threads 
Of dew evaporate brushes from the plain. 
How clear the cloudless sky ! how deeply ting'd 
With a peculiar blue ! the ethereal arch 
How swell'd immense ! amid whose azure thron'd 
The radiant sun how gay ! how calm below 
The gilded earth ! the harvest-treasures all 
Now gather'd in, beyond the rage of storms, 
Sure to the swain ; the circling fence shut up ; 
And instant Winter's utmost rage defied. 
While, loose, to festive joy, the country round 
Laughs with the loud sincerity of mirth, 
Shook to the wind their cares. The toil-strung youth, 
By the quick sense of music taught alone, 
Leaps wildly graceful in the lively dance. 
Her every charm abroad, the village-toast, 
Young, buxom, warm, in native beauty rich, 
Darts not unmeaning looks ; and, where her eye 
Points an approving smile, with double force, 
The cudgel rattles, and the wrestler twines. 
Age too shines out ; and, garrulous, recounts 
The feats of youth. Thus they rejoice ; nor think 
That, with to-morrow's sun, their annual toil 
Begins again the never-ceasing round. 

Oh, knew he but his happiness, of men 
The happiest he ! who far from public rage, 
Deep in the vale, with a choice few retir'd, 
Drinks the pure pleasures of the Rural Life. 
What though the dome be wanting, whose proud gate, 



AUTUMN. 151 

Each morning vomits out the sneaking crowd 

Of flatterers false, and in their turn abus'd ? 

Tile intercourse ! what though the glittering robe, 

Of every hue reflected light can give, 

Or floating loose, or stiff with mazy gold, 

The pride and gaze of fools ! oppress him not? 

What though, from utmost land and sea purvey'd, 

For him each rarer tributary life 

Bleeds not, and his insatiate table heaps 

With luxury, and death ? What though his bowl 

Flames not with costly juice ; nor sunk in beds, 

Oft of gay care, he tosses out the night, 

Or melts the thoughtless hours in idle state ? 

What though he knows not those fantastic joys, 

That still amuse the wanton, still deceive ; 

A face of pleasure, but a heart of pain ; 

Their hollow moments undelighted all? 

Sure peace is his; a solid life, estrang'd 

To disappointment, and fallacious hope : 

Rich in content, in Nature's bounty rich, 

In herbs and fruils ; whatever greens the Spring, 

When heav'n descends in showers ; or bends the bough, 

When Summer reddens, and when Autumn beams ; 

Or in the wintry glebe whatever lies 

ConceaFd, and fattens with the richest sap : 

These are not wanting ; nor the milky drove, 

Luxuriant, spread o'er all the lowing vale ; 

Nor bleating mountains; nor the chide of streams, 

And hum of bees, inviting sleep sincere 

Into the guiltless breast, beneath the shade, 

Or thrown at large amid the fragrant hay ; 

Nor aught besides of prospect, grove, or song, 

Dim grottos, gleaming lakes, and fountain clear. 

Here too dwells simple Truth ; plain Innocence ; 

1 Insullied Beauty ; sound unbroken Youth, 



152 AUTUMN. 

Patient of labour, with a little pleas'd ; 
Health ever blooming ; unambitious toil ; 
Calm Contemplation, and poetic Ease. 

Let others brave the flood in quest of gain, 
And beat, for joyless months, the gloomy wave. 
Let such as deem it glory to destroy, 
Rush into blood, the sack of cities seek ; 
Unpierc'd, exulting in the widow's wail, 
The virgin's shriek, and infant's trembling cry. 
Let some, far distant from their native soil, 
Urg'd or by want or harden'd avarice, 
Find other lands beneath another sun. 
Let this through cities work his eager way, 
By legal outrage and establish'd guile, 
The social sense extinct ; and that ferment 
Mad into tumult the seditious herd, 
Or melt them down to slavery. Let these 
Ensnare the wretched in the toils of law, 
Fomenting discord, and perplexing right, 
An iron race ! and those of fairer front, 
But equal inhumanity, in courts, 
Delusive pomp and dark cabals, delight ; 
Wreathe the deep bow, diffuse the lying smile, 
And tread the weary labyrinth of state. 
While he, from all the stormy passions free 
That restless men involve, hears, and but hears, 
At distance safe, the human tempest roar, 
Wrapt close in conscious peace. The fall of kings, 
The rage of nations, and the crush of states. 
Move not the man, who, from the world escap'd, 
In still retreats, and flowery solitudes, 
To Nature's voice attends, from month to month, 
And day to day, through the revolving year ; 
Admiring, sees her in her every shape ; 
Feels all her sweet emotions at his heart : 



AUTUMN. 153 

Takes what she liberal gives, nor thinks of more. 

He, when young Spring protrudes the bursting gem9, 

Marks the first bud, and sucks the healthful gale 

Into his freshen'd soul ; her genial hours 

He full enjoys ; and not a beauty blows, 

And not an opening blossom breathes in vain. 

In Summer he, beneath the living shade, 

Such as o'er frigid Tempe wont to wave, 

Or Hemus cool, reads what the Muse, of these, 

Perhaps, has in immortal numbers sung ; 

Or what she dictates writes : and, oft an eye 

Shot round, rejoices in the vigorous year. 

When Autumn's yellow lustre gilds the world, 
And tempts the sickled swain into the field, 
Seiz'd by the general joy, his heart distends 
With gentle throes ; and, through the tepid gleams 
Deep musing, then he best exerts his song. 
E'en Winter wild to him is full of bliss. 
The mighty tempest, and the hoary waste, 
Abrupt, and deep, stretch'd o'er the buried earth, 
Awake to solemn thought. At night the skies, 
Disclos'd and kindled by refining frost, 
Pour every lustre on th' exalted eye. 
A friend, a book, the stealing hours secure, 
And mark them down for wisdom. With swift wing 
O'er land and sea imagination roams ; 
Or truth, divinely breaking on his mind, 
Elates his being, and unfolds his powers ; 
Or in his breast heroic virtue burns. 
The touch of kindred too and love he feels ; 
The modest eye, whose beams on his alone 
Ecstatic shine ; the little strong embrace 
Of prattling children, twin'd around his neck, 
And emulous to please him, calling forth 
The fond parental soul. Nor purpose gay, 



154 AUTUMN. 

Amusement, dance, or song, he sternly scorns ; 

For happiness and true philosophy 

Are of the social, still, and smiling kind. 

This is the life which those who fret in guilt, 

And guilty cities, never knew ; the life, 

Led by primeval ages, uncorrupt, 

When Angels dwelt, and God himself, with Man. 

Oh Nature ! all sufficient ! over all ! 
Enrich me with the knowledge of thy works ! 
Snatch me to heaven ; thy rolling wonders there, 
World beyond world, in infinite extent, 
Profusely scatter'd o'er the blue immense, 
Show me ; their motions, periods, and their laws, 
Give me to scan ; through the disclosing deep 
Light my blind way : the mineral strata there ; 
Thrust, blooming, thence the vegetable world ; 
O'er that the rising system, more complex, 
Of animals ; and higher still, the mind, 
The varied scene of quick-compounded thought, 
And where the mixing passions endless shift ; 
These ever open to my ravish'd eye ; 
A search, the flight of time can ne'er exhaust. 

But if to that unequal ; if the blood, 
In sluggish streams about my heart, forbid 
That best ambition ; under closing shades, 
Inglorious, lay me by the lowly brook, 
And whisper to my dreams. From Thee begin, 
Dwell all on Thee, with Thee conclude my song ; 
And let me never, never stray from Thee ! 



THE SEASONS 



WINTER 



THE ARGUMENT. . 

The subject proposed. Address to the Earl of Wilmington. 
First approach of Winter. According to the natural course of 
the season, various storms described. Rain. Wind. Snow. 
The driving of the snows : a man perishing among them; whence 
reflections on the wants and miseries of human life. The wolves 
descending from the Alps and Appenines. A winter evening de- 
scribed ; as spent by philosophers ; by the country people ; ia 
the city. Frost. A view of winter within the polar circle. A 
thaw. The whole concluding with moral reflections on a future 
state. 





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and down he sinks 

Beneath the shelter of the shapeless drift 
Thinking o'er all the bitterness of death 



WINTER. 



WINTER. 



See, Winter comes, to rule the varied year 3 
Sullen and sad, with all his rising train ; 
Vapours, and Clouds, and Storms. Be these my theme, 
These ! that exalt the soul to solemn thought, 
And heavenly musing. Welcome, kindred glooms ! 
Congenial horrors, hail ! with frequent foot, 
Pleas'd have I, in my cheerful morn of life, 
When nurs'd by careless Solitude I liv'd, 
And sung of Nature with unceasing joy, 
Pleas'd have I wander'd through your rough domain ; 
Trod the pure virgin-snows, myself as pure ; 
Heard the winds roar, and the big torrent burst ; 
Or seen the deep-fermenting tempest brew'd, 
In the grim evening sky. Thus pass'd the time, 
Till through the lucid chambers of the south 
Look'd out the joyous Spring, look'd out, and smil'd, 

To thee, the patron of her first essay, 
The Muse, O Wilmington ! renews her song. 
Since has she rounded the revolving year : 
Skimm'd the gay Spring ; on eagle-pinions borne, 
Attempted through the Summer-blaze to rise ; 
Then swept o'er Autumn with the shadowy gale \ 
And now among the wintry clouds again, 
Roll'd in the doubling storm, she tries to soar ; 
To swell her note with all the rushing winds ; 
To suit her sounding cadence to the floods ; 
14 



158 WINTER. 

As is her theme, her numbers wildly great i 
Thrice happy ! could she fill thy judging ear 
With bold description, and with manly thoughts, 

Nor art thou skilled in awful schemes alone, 
And how to make a mighty people thrive ; 
But equal goodness, sound integrity, 
A firm unshaken uncorrupted soul 
Amid a sliding age, and burning strong, 
Not vainly blazing, for thy country's weal, 
A steady spirit regularly free ; 
These, each exalting each, the statesman light 
Into the patriot ; these the public hope 
And eye to thee converting, bid the Muse 
Record what envy dares not flattery call. 

Now when the cheerless empire of the sky 
To Capricorn the Centaur Archer yields, 
And fierce Aquarius stains th' inverted year; 
Hung o'er the furthest verge of heaven, the sun 
Scarce spreads through ether the dejected day. 
Faint are his gleams, and ineffectual shoot 
His struggling rays, in horizontal lines, 
Through the thick air ; as cloth'd in cloudy storm. 
Weak, wan, and broad, he skirts the southern sky ; 
And, soon-descending, to the long dark night, 
Wide-shading all, the prostrate world resigns. 
Nor is the night unwish'd ; while vital heat, 
Light, life, and joy, the dubious day forsake. 
Meantime, in sable cincture, shadows vast, 
Deep-ting'd and damp, and congregated clouds, 
And all the vapoury turbulence of heaven, 
Involve the face of things. Thus Winter falls, 
A heavy gloom oppressive o'er the world, 
Through Nature shedding influence malign, 
And rouses up the seeds of dark disease. 



WINTER. 159 

The soul of man dies in him, loathing life, 
And black with more than melancholy views. 
The cattle droop ; and o'er the furrow'd land, 
Fresh from the plough, the dun discolour'd flocks, 
Untended spreading, crop the wholesome root. 
Along the woods, along the moorish fens, 
Sighs the sad Genius of the coming storm ; 
And up among the loose disjointed cliffs, 
And fractur'd mountains wild, the brawling brook 
And cave, presageful, send a hollow moan, 
Resounding long in listening Fancy's ear. 

Then comes the father of the tempest forth, 
Wrapt in black glooms. First joyless rains obscure, 
Drive through the mingling skies with vapour foul ; 
Dash on the mountain's brow, and shake the woods, 
That grumbling wave below. Th' unsightly plain 
Lies a brown deluge ; as the low-bent clouds 
Pour flood on flood, yet unexhausted still 
Combine, and deepening into night, shut up 
The day's fair face. The wanderers of heaven, 
Each to his home, retire ; save those that love 
To take their pastime in the troubled air, 
Or skimming flutter round the dimply pool. 
The cattle from th' untasted fields return, 
And ask, with meaning low, their wonted stalls, 
Or ruminate in the contiguous shade. 
Thither the household feathery people crowd, 
The crested cock, with all his female train, 
Pensive, and dripping ; while the cottage hind 
Hangs o'er th' enlivening blaze, and taleful there 
Recounts his simple frolic: much he talks, 
And much he laughs, nor recks the storm that blows 
Without, and rattles on his humble roof. 

Wide o'er the brim, with many a torrent swell'd, 
And the mix'd ruin of its banks o'erspread, 



100 WINTER. 

At last the rous'd-up river pours along : 

Resistless, roaring, dreadful, down it comes. 

From the rude mountain, and the mossy wild, 

Tumbling through rocks abrupt, and sounding far ; 

Then o'er the sanded valley floating spreads, 

Calm, sluggish, silent ; till again, constrain'd 

Between two meeting hills it bursts away, 

Where rocks and woods o'erhang the turbid stream ; 

There gathering triple force, rapid, and deep, 

It boils, and wheels, and foams, and thunders through. 

Nature ! great parent ! whose unceasing hand 
Rolls round the Seasons of the changeful year, 
How mighty, how majestic, are thy works ! 
With what a pleasing dread they swell the soul ! 
That sees astonish'd ! and astonish'd sings ! 
Ye too, ye winds ! that now begin to blow, 
With boisterous sweep, I raise my voice to you. 
Where are your stores, ye powerful beings ! say, 
Where your aerial magazines reserv'd, 
To swell the brooding terrors of the storm ? 
In what far-distant region of the sky, 
Hush'd in deep silence, sleep ye when 'tis calm ? 

When from the pallid sky the sun descends, 
With many a spot, that o'er his glaring orb 
Uncertain wanders, stain'd ; red fiery streaks 
Begin to flush around. The reeling clouds 
Stagger with dizzy poise, as doubting yet 
Which master to obey : while rising slow, 
Blank, in the leaden-colourd east, the moon 
Wears a wan circle round her blunted horns. 
Seen through the turbid fluctuating air, 
The stars obtuse emit a shiver'd ray ; 
Or frequent seem to shoot athwart the gloom, 
And long behind them trail the whitening blaze. 
Snatch'd in short eddies, plays the wither'd leaf: 



WINTER. 1 61 

And on the flood the dancing feather floats. 
With broaden'd nostrils to the sky up-turn'd, 
The conscious heifer snuffs the stormy gale. 
E'en as the matron, at her nightly task, 
With pensive labour draws the flaxen thread. 
The wasted taper and the crackling flame 
Foretell the blast. But chief the plumy race. 
The tenants of the sky, its changes speak. 
Retiring from the downs, where all day long 
They pick'd their scanty fare, a blackening train 
Of clamorous rooks thick urge their weary flight, 
And seek the closing shelter of the grove. 
Assiduous in his bovver, the wailing owl 
Plies his sad song. The cormorant on high 
Wheels from the deep, and screams along the land. 
Loud shrieks the soaring hern ; and with wild wing 
The circling sea-fowl cleave the flaky clouds. 
Ocean, unequal press 'd, with broken tide 
And blind commotion heaves ; while from the shore, 
Eat into caverns by the restless wave, 
And forest-rustling mountain, comes a voice. 
That solemn sounding bids the world prepare. 
Then issues forth the storm with sudden burst, 
And hurls the whole precipitated air, 
Down in a torrent. On the passive main 
Descends the ethereal force, and with strong gust 
Turns from its bottom the discolour'd deep. 
Through the black night that sits immense around, 
Lasb'd into foam, the fierce conflicting brine 
Seems o'er a thousand raging waves to burn : 
Meantime the mountain-billows, to the clouds 
In dreadful tumult swell'd, surge above surge, 
Burst into chaos with tremendous roar, 
And anchor'd navies from their stations drive, 
Wild as the winds across the howling waste 
14* 



1G2 n inter. 

Of mighty waters : now th' inflated wave 

Straining they scale, and now impetuous shoot 

Into the secret chambers of the deep, 

The wintry Baltic thundering o'er their head. 

Emerging thence again, before the breath 

Of full-exerted heaven they wing their course, 

And dart on distant coasts ; if some sharp rock, 

Or shoal insidious, break not their career 

And in loose fragments fling them floating round. 

Nor less at land the loosen'd tempest reigns. 
The mountain thunders ; and its sturdy sons 
Stoop to the bottom of the rocks they shade. 
Lone on the midnight steep, and all aghast, 
The dark wayfaring stranger breathless toils. 
And, often falling, climbs against the blast. 
Low waves the rooted forest, vex'dj and sheds 
What of its tarnish'd honours j^et remain ; 
Dash'd down, and scatter'd, by the tearing wind's 
Assiduous fury, its gigantic limbs. 
Thus struggling through the dissipated grove, 
The whirling tempest raves along the plain ; 
And on the cottage thatch'd, or lordly roof, 
Keen-fastening, shakes them to the solid base. 
Sleep frighted flies ; and round the rocking dome, 
For entrance eager, howls the savage blast. 
Then too, they say, through all the burden'd air, 
Long groans are heard, shrill sounds, and distant sighs, 
That, utter'd by the demon of the night, 
Warn the devoted wretch of wo and death. 

Huge uproar lords it wide. The clouds commix'd 
With stars swift gliding sweep along the sky. 
All Nature reels. Till Nature's King, who oft 
Amid tempestuous darkness dwells alone, 
And on the wings of the careering wind 



WINTER. lGi 

Walks dreadfully serene, commands a calm ; 

Then straight, air, sea, and earth, are hush'd at once. 

As yet 'tis midnight deep. The weary clouds, 
Slow-meeting, mingle into solid gloom. 
Now, while the drowsy world lies lost in sleep, 
Let me associate with the serious Night, 
And Contemplation, her sedate compeer ; 
Let me shake off the intrusive cares of day, 
And lay the meddling senses all aside. 

Where now, ye lying vanities of life ! 
Ye ever-tempting, ever-cheating train ! 
Where are 3^011 now ? and what is your amount? 
Vexation, disappointment, and remorse. 
Sad, sickening thought! and yet, deluded man, 
A scene of crude disjointed visions past. 
And broken slumbers, rises still resolv'd ; 
With new-flush'd hopes, to run the giddy round. 

Father of light and life, thou Good Supreme ! 
O teach me what is good ! teach me Thyself! 
Save me from folly, vanity, and vice, 
From every low pursuit ; and feed my soul 
With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure ; 
Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss ! 

The keener tempests rise : and fuming dun 
From all the livid east, or piercing north, 
Thick clouds ascend ; in whose capacious womb 
A vapoury deluge lies, to snow congeal'd. 
Heavy they roll their fleecy world along ; 
And the sky saddens with the gather'd storm. 
Thro' the hush'd air the whitening shower descends, 
At first thin wavering ; till at last the flakes 
Fail broad, and wide, and fast, dimming the day 
With a continual flow. The cherish'd fields 
Put on their winter-robe of purest white 
'Tis brightness all ; save where the new snow melts 



1()4 WINTER, 

Along the mazy current. Lo;v, the woods 
Bow their hoar head ; and, ere the languid sun 
Faint from the west emits his evening ray, 
Earth's universal face, deep hid, and chill, 
Is one wild dazzling waste, that buries wide 
The works of man. Drooping, the labourer-ox 
Stands coyer'd o'er with snow, and then demands 
The fruit of all his toil. The fowls of heaven, 
Tam'd by the cruel season, crowd around 
The winnowing store, and claim the little boon 
Which Providence assigns them. One alone. 
The red-breast, sacred to the household gods, 
Wisely regardful of th' embroiling sky, 
In joyless fields, and thorny thickets leaves 
His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man 
Hi<$ annual visit. Half-afraid, he first 
Against the window beats ; then, brisk, alights 
On the warm hearth; then, hopping o'er the floor, 
Eyes all the smiling family askance, 
And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is : 
Till more familiar grown, the table-crumbs 
Attract his slender feet. The foodless wilds 
Pour forth their brown inhabitants. The hare, 
Though timorous of heart, and hard beset 
By death in various forms, dark snares, and dogs, 
And more unpitying men, the garden seeks, 
Urg'd on by fearless want. The bleating kind 
Eye the bleak heaven, and next the glistening earth, 
With looks of dumb despair ; then sad dispers'd, 
Dig for the wither'd herb through heaps of snow. 

Now, shepherds, to your helpless charge be kind ; 
Baffle the raging year, and fill their pens 
With food at will ; lodge them below the storm. 
And watch them strict : for from the bellowing east. 
In this dire season, oft the whirlwind's wing 



WINTER. 165 

Sweeps up the burden of whole wintry plains 
At one wide waft ; and o'er the hapless flocks, 
Hid in the hollow of two neighbouring hills, 
The billowy tempest whelms ; till, upward urg'd, 
The valley to a shining mountain swells, 
Tipt with a wreath high-curling in the sky. 

As thus the snows arise ; and foul, and fierce, 
All Winter drives along the darken'd air ; 
In his own loose-revolving fields, the swain 
Disaster'd stands ; sees other hills ascend, 
Of unknown joyless brow ; and other scenes, 
Of horrid prospect, shag the trackless plain : 
Nor finds the river, nor the forest hid 
Beneath the formless wild ; but wanders on 
From hill to dale, still more and more astray ; 
Impatient flouncing through the drifted heaps, 
Stung with the thoughts of home ; the thoughts of home 
Rush on his nerves, and call their vigour forth 
In many a vain attempt. How sinks his soul ! 
What black despair, what horror fills his heart ! 
When for the dusky spot, which fancy feign'd 
His tufted cottage rising through the snow, 
He meets the roughness of the middle waste, 
Far from the track, and bless'd abode of man ; 
While round him night resistless closes fast, 
And every tempest, howling o'er his head, 
Renders the savage wilderness more wild. 
Then throng the busy shapes into his mind, 
Of cover'd pits, unfathomably deep, 
A dire descent ! beyond the power of frost ; 
Of faithless bogs ; of precipices huge, 
Smooth'd up with snow ; and, what is land, unknown, 
What water, of the still unfrozen spring, 
In the loose marsh or solitary lake, 
Where the fresh fountain from the bottom boils. 



166 WINTER. 

These check his fearful steps ; and down he sinks 
Beneath the shelter of the shapeless drift, 
Thinking o'er all the bitterness of death ; 
Mix'd with the tender anguish Nature shoots 
Through the wrung bosom of the dying man. 
His wife, his children, and his friends unseen. 

In vain for him th' officious wife prepares 
The fire fair-blazing, and the vestment warm ; 
In vain his little children, peeping out 
Into the mingling storm, demand their sire, 
With tears of artless innocence. Alas ! 
Nor wife, nor children, more shall he behold ; 
Nor friends, nor sacred home. On every nerve 
The deadly Winter seizes ; shuts up sense ; 
And, o'er his inmost vitals creeping cold, 
Lays him along the snows, a stiffen'd corse ; 
Stretch'd out, and bleaching in the northern blast. 

Ah ! little think the gay licentious proud, 
Whom pleasure, power, and affluence surround ; 
They, who their thoughtless hours in giddy mirth. 
And wanton, often cruel, riot waste ; 
Ah! little think they, while they dance along, 
How many feel, this very moment, death, 
And all the sad variety of pain. 
How many sink in the devouring flood, 
Or more devouring flame. How many bleed, 
By shameful variance betwixt man and man. 
How many pine in want, and dungeon glooms; 
Shut from the common air. and common use 
Of their own limbs. How many drink the cup 
Of baleful grief, or eat the bitter bread 
Of misery. Sore pierc'd by wintry winds, 
How many shrink into the sordid hut 
Of cheerless poverty. How many shake 
With all the fiercer tortures of the mind, 



WINTER. 167 

Unbounded passion, madness, guilt, remorse ; 
Whence tumbled headlong from the height of life, 
They furnish matter for the tragic Muse. 
E'en in the vale, where Wisdom loves to dwell, 
With friendship, peace, and contemplation join'd, 
How many, rack'd with honest passions, droop 
In deep retir'd distress. How many stand 
Around the death-bed of their dearest friends, 
And point the parting anguish. Thought fond Man 
Of these, and all the thousand nameless ills 
That one incessant struggle render life 
One scene of toil, of suffering, and of fate ; 
Vice in his high career would stand appall'd, 
And heedless rambling Impulse learn to think ; 
The conscious heart of Charity would warm, 
And her wide wish Benevolence dilate ; 
The social tear would rise, the social sigh ; 
And into clear perfection, gradual bliss, 
Refining still, the social passions work. 

And here can I forget the generous band,* 
Who, touch 'd with human wo, redressive search'd 
Into the horrors of the gloomy jail ? 
Unpitied, and unheard, where misery moans ; 
Where sickness pines ; where thirst and hunger burn. 
And poor misfortune feels the lash of vice. 
While in the hind of Mherty, the land 
Whose every street and public meeting glow 
With open freedom, little tyrants rag'd ; 
Snatch'd the lean morsel from the starving mouth ; 
Tore from cold wintry limbs the tatter'd weed ; 
E'en robb'd them of the last of comforts, sleep ; 
The freeborn Briton to the dungeon chain'd, 
Or, as the lust of cruelty prevail'd, 

* The Jail Committee, in the veav 1729. 



J 0'S WINTER. 

At pleasure mark'd him with inglorious stripes ; 
And crush'd out lives, by secret barbarous ways, 
That for their country would have toiFd, or bled. 
O great design ! if executed well, 
With patient care, and wisdom-temper'd zeal, 
Ve sons of Mercy ! yet resume the search ; 
Drag forth the legal monsters into light, 
Wrench from their hands oppression's iron rod, 
And bid the cruel feel the pains they give. 

Much still untouch'd remains ; in this rank age, 
Much is the patriot's weeding hand requir'd. 
The toils of law, (what dark insidious men 
Have cumbrous added to perplex the truth, 
And lengthen simple justice into trade,) 
How glorious were the day that saw these broke. 
And every man within the reach of right ! 

By wintry famine rous'd, from all the tract 
Of horrid mountains which the shining Alps, 
And wavy Appenine, and Pyrenees, 
Branch out stupendous into distant lands ; 
Cruel as death, and hungry as the grave ! 
Burning for blood ! bony, and gaunt, and grim ! 
Assembling wolves in raging troops descend ; 
And, pouring o'er the country, bear along, 
Keen as the north-wind sweeps the glossy snow 
All is their prize. They fasten on the steed, 
Press him to earth, and pierce his mighty heart. 
Nor can the bull his awful front defend, 
Or shake the murdering savages away. 
Rapacious, at the mother's throat they fly, 
And tear the screaming infant from her breast. 
The godlike face of man avails him nought. 
E'en beauty, force divine ! at whose bright glai.ee 
The generous lion stands in soften'd gaze, 
Here bleeds, a hapless undistinguish'd prev. 



WINTER. 169 

But if, appriz'd of the severe attack, ' 

The country be shut up ; lur'd by the scent, 

On churchyards drear (inhuman.to relate!) 

The disappointed prowlers fall, and dig 

The shrouded body from the grave ; o'er which, 

Mix'd with foul shades, and frighted ghosts, they howl. 

Among those hilly regions, where, embrac'd 
In peaceful vales, the happy Orisons dwell ; 
Oft, rushing sudden from the loaded cliffs, 
Mountains of snow their gathering terrors roll. 
From steep to steep, loud thundering down they come, 
A wintry waste in dire comrnption all : 
And herds and flocks, and travellers and swains, 
And sometimes whole brigades of marching troops, 
Or hamlets sleeping in the dead of night, 
Are deep beneath the smothering ruin whelm'd. 

Now, all amid the rigours of the year, 
In the wild depth of Winter, while without 
The ceaseless winds blow ice, be my retreat, 
Between the groaning forest and the shore 
Beat by the boundless multitude of waves ; 
A rural, shelter'd, solitary, scene ; 
Where ruddy fire and beaming tapers join 
To cheer the gloom. There studious let me sit, 
And hold high converse with the mighty Dead ; 
Sages of ancient time, as gods rever'd ; 
As gods beneficent, who bless'd mankind 
With arts, with arms, and humaniz'd a world. 
Rous'd at th' inspiring thought, I throw aside 
The long-liv'd volume ; and, deep-musing, hail 
The sacred shades, that slowly rising pass 
Before my wondering eyes. First Socrates, 
Who, firmly good in a corrupted state, 
Against the rage of tyrants single stood, 
Invincible ! calm Reason's holy law, 
15 



170 WINTER. 

That voice of God within th' attentive mind, 
Obeying, fearless, or in life, or death. 
Great moral teacher ! Wisest of mankind ! 
Solon the next ; who built his common-weal 
On equity's wide base ; by tender laws 
A lively people curbing, yet undamp'd ; 
Preserving still that quick peculiar fire, 
Whence in the laurel'd field of finer arts, 
And of bold freedom, they unequall'd shone ; 
The pride of smiling Greec , and human kind 
Lycurgus then, who bow'd beneath the force 
Of strictest discipline, severely wise, 
All human passions. Following him, I see. 
As at Thermopylae he glorious fell, 
The firm devoted Chief,* who prov'd by deeds 
The hardest lesson which the otiif r taught. 
Then Aristides lifts his honest front ; 
Spotless of heart, to whom th' unflattering voice 
Of freedom gave the noblest name of Just; 
In pure majestic poverty rever'd ; 
Who, e'en his glory to his country's weal 
Submitting, swell'd a haughty rival's! fame. 
Rear'd by his care, of softer ray appears 
Cimon sweet-soul'd ; whose genius, rising strong, 
Shook off the load of young iebauch ; abroad 
The scourge of Persian pride, at home the friend 
Of every worth and every splendid art ; 
Modest, and simple, in the pomp of wealth. 
Then the last worthies of declining Greece, 
Late call'd to glory, in unequal times, 
Pensive, appear. The fair Corinthian boast, 
Timoleon, happy temper ! mild, and firm, 
Who wept the brother while the tyrant bled. 

* Leonidas. f Themistocles> 



WINTER. 171 

And equal to the best, the Theban Pair,* 
Whose virtues, in heroic concord join'd, 
Their country rais'd to freedom, ^mpire, fame. 
He too, with whom Athenian honour sunk, 
And left a mass of sordid lees behind, 
Phocion the Good ; in public life severe, 
To virtue still inexorably firm ; 
But when, beneath his low illustrious roof, 
Sweet peace and happy wisdom smooth'd his brow, 
Not friendship softer was, nor love more kind. 
And he, the last of old Lycurgus 1 sons, 
The generous victim to that vain attempt, 
To save a rotten state, Agis, who saw 
E'en Sparta's self to servile avarice sunk. 
The two Achaian heroes close the train ; 
Aratus, who awhile relum'd the soul 
Of fondly-lingering liberty in Greece, 
And he her darling as her latest hope, 
The gallant Philopcemen ; who to arms 
Turn'd the luxurious pomp he could not cure ; 
Or toiling in his farm, a simple swain ; 
Or, bold and skilful, thundering in the field. 
Of rougher front, a mighty people come. 
A race of heroes ! in those virtuous times 
Which knew no stain, since that with partial flame 
Their dearest country they too fondly lov'd : 
Her better founder first, the light of Rome, 
Numa,jivho her rapacious sons: 

Servius the king, who laid sol 1 base 
On which o'er earth the vast republic spread. 
Then the great consuls venerable rise. 
The public Fatherf who the private quell'd, 
As on the dread tribunal sternly sad : 
He, whom his thankb ss country could not lose, 

1 Pelopidas and Epaminondas. t Marcus Junius Brutus. 



172 



WINTER. 



Camillus, only vengeful to her foes. 
Fabricius, scorner of all-conquering gold ; 
And Cincinnatus, awful from the plough. 
Thy willing victim,* Carthage, bursting loose 
From all that pleading Nature could oppose. 
From a whole city's tears, by rigid faith 
Imperious call'd, and honour's dire command. 
Scipio, the gentle chief, humanely brave; 
Who soon the race of spotless glory ran, 
And, warm in youth, to the poetic shade 
With Friendship and Philosophy retir'd. 
Tully. whose powerful eloquence awhile 
Restraint the rapid fate of rushing Rome. 
Unconquer'd Cato, virtuous in extreme : 
And thou, unhappy Brutus, kind of heart; 
Whose steady arm, by awful virtue urg'd, 
Lifted the Roman steel against thy friend. 
Thousands, besides, the tribute of a verse 
Demand ; but who can count the stars of heaven? 
Who sing their influence on this lower world ? 

Behold, who yonder comes ! in sober state, 
Fair, mild, and strong, as is a vernal sum 
5 Tis Phoebus' self, or else the Mantuan swain! 
Great Homer too appears, of daring wing, 
Parent of song ! and equal by his side, 
The British Muse : jom'd hand in hand they walk, 
Darkling, full up the middle steep to fame. 
Nor absent are those shades, whose skilful touch 
Pathetic drew th' impassion'd heart, and charm'd 
Transported Athens with the moral scene: 
Nor those who, tuneful, wak'd the enchanting lyre. 

First of your kind, society divine ! 
Still visit thus my nights, for you reserv'd 

* Resuln s. 



WINTER. 1?3 

And mount my soaring soul to thoughts like yours. 
Silence, thou lonely power ! the door be thine ; 
See on the hallovv'd hour that none intrude, 
Save a few chosen friends, who sometimes deism 
To bless my humble roof, with sense refin'd, 
Learning digested well, exalted faith, 
Unstudied wit, and humour ever gay. 
Or from the Muses' hill will Pope descend, 
To raise the sacred hour, to bid it smile, 
And with the social spirit warm the heart : 
For though not sweeter his own Homer sings, 
Yet is his life the more endearing song. 
; Where art thou, Hammond ? thou, the darling pride 
The friend and lover of the tuneful throng! 
Ah ! why, dear youth, in all the blooming prime 
Of vernal genius, where disclosing fast 
Each active worth, each manly virtue lay, 
Why wert thou ravish'd from our hope so soon ? 
What now avails that noble thirst of fame, 
Which stung thy fervent breast ? that treasur'd store 
Of knowledge, early gain'd ? that eager zeal 
To serve thy country, glowing in the hand 
Of youthful patriots, who sustain her name ? 
What now, alas ! that life-diffusing charm 
Of sprightly wit ? that rapture for the Muse, 
That heart of friendship, and that soul of joy, 
Which bade with softest light thy virtues smile. 
Ah ! only show'd, to check our fond pursuits, 
And teach our humbled hopes that life is vain ! 
Thus in some deep retirement would I pass 
The Winter glooms, with friends of pliant soul, 
Or blithe, or solemn, as the theme inspir'd : 
With them would search, if Nature's boundless frame 
Was call'd, late-rising from the void of night, 
Or sprung eternal from th' Eternal Mind ; 
15* 



174 WINTER. 

Its life, its laws, its progress, and its end. 

Hence larger prospects of the beauteous whole 

Would, gradual, open on our opening minds ; 

And each diffusive harmony unite 

In full perfection to th' astonished eye. 

Then would we try to scan the moral world, 

Which, though to us it seems embroil'd, moves on 

In higher order ; fitted, and impell'd, 

By Wisdom's finest hand, and issuing all 

In general good. The sage historic Muse 

Should next conduct us through the deeps of time : 

Show us how empire grew, declin'd, and fell, 

In scatter'd states ; what makes the nations smile; 

Improves their soil, and gives them double suns ; 

And why they pine beneath the brightest skies, 

In Nature's richest lap. As thus we talk'd, 

Our hearts would burn within us, would inhale 

That portion of divinity, that ray 

Of purest heaven, which lights the public soul 

Of patriots, and of heroes. But if doom'd, 

In powerless humble fortune, to repress 

These ardent risings of the kindling soul ; 

Then, e'en superior to ambition, we 

Would learn the private virtues ; how to glide 

Thro' shades and plains, along the smoothest stream 

Of rural life : or snatch'd away by hope, 

Through the dim spaces of futurity, 

With earnest eye anticipate those scenes 

Of happiness and wonder, where the mind, 

In endless growth and infinite ascent, 

Rises from state to state, and world to world. 

But when with these the serious thought is foil'd, 

We, shifting for relief, would play the shapes 

Of frolic fancy ; and incessant form 

Those rapid pictures, that assembled train 



WINTER 175 

Of fleet ideas, never join'd before ; 
Whence lively Wit excites to gay surprise ; 
Or folly-painting Humour, grave himself, 
Calls laughter forth, deep-shaking every nerve. 

Meantime the village rouses up the fire ; 
While, well attested, and as well believ'dj 
Heard solemn, goes the goblin story round; 
Till superstitious horror creeps o'er all. 
Or, frequent in the sounding hall, they wake 
The rural gambol. Rustic mirth goes round ; 
The simple joke that takes the shepherd's heart, 
Easily pleas'd ; the long loud laugh, sincere ; 
The kiss, snatch'd hasty from the side-long maid, 
On purpose guardless, or pretending sleep. 
The leap, the slap, the haul ; and, shook to notes 
Of native music, the respondent dance. 
Thus jocund fleets with them the winter-night. 

The city swarms intense. The public haunt, 
Full of each theme, and warm with mix'd discourse, 
Hums indistinct. The sons of riot flow 
Down the loose stream of false enchanted joy 
To swift destruction. On the rankled soul 
The gaming fury falls ; nnd in one gulf, 
Of total ruin, honour, virtue, peace, 
Friends, families, and fortune, headlong sink. 
Up spin ; he dance along the lighted dome, 
Mix'd, and evolv'd, a thousand ; "ightly ways. 
The glittering court effuses every pomp ; 
The circle deepens : beam'd from gaudy robes, 
Tapers, and sparkling gems, and radiant eyes, 
A soft effulgence o'er the palace waves: 
While, a gay insect in his summer shine, 
The fop, light-fluttering, spreads his mealy wings. 

Dread o'er the scene the ghost of Hamlet stalks ; 
Othello rages ; poor Monimia mourns ; 



I7G WINTER. 

And Belvidera pours her soul in love. 
Terror alarms the breast ; the comely tear 
Steals o'er the cheek : or else the Comic Muse 
Holds to the world a picture of itself, 
And raises sly the fair impartial laugh. 
Sometime she lifts her strain, and paints the scenes 
Of beautious life ; whate'er can deck mankind, 
Or charm the heart, in generous Bevil* show'd. 

O Thou, whose wisdom, solid, yet refin'd, 
Whose patriot-virtues, and consummate skill 
To touch the finer springs that move the world, 
Joined to whate'er the Graces can bestow 
And all Apollo's animating fire, 
Give thee, with pleasing dignity, to shine 
At once the guardian, ornament, and joy, 
Of polished life ; permit the rural Muse, 
O Chesterfield ! to grace with thee her song. 
Ere to the shades again she humbly flies, 
Indulge her fond ambition, in thy train, 
(For every Muse has in thy train a place,) 
To mark thy various full-accomplish'd mind : 
To mark that spirit, which, with British scorn, 
Rejects th' allurements of corrupted power ; 
That elegant politeness, which excels, 
E'en in the judgment of presumptuous France, 
The boasted manners of her shining court ; 
That wit, the vivid energy of sense, 
The truth of Nature, which, with Attic point, 
And kind well-tempered satire, smoothly keen, 
Steals through the soul, and without pain corrects. 
Or, rising thence with yet a brighter flame, 
O let me hail thee on some glorious day, 

* A characer an The Conscious Lovers, written by Sir R- 
Steele 



WINTER. 17 

When to the listening senate, ardent, crowd 

Britannia's sons to hear her pleaded cause. 

Then dress'd by thee, more amiably fair, 

Truth the soft robe of mild persuasion wears ; 

Thou to assenting reason giv'st again 

Her own enlighten'd thoughts : call'd from the heart, 

Th' obedient passions on thy voice attend; 

And e : en reluctant party feels awhile 

Thy gracious power; as through the varied maze 

Of eloquence, now smooth, now quick, now strong, 

Profound, and clear, you roll the copious flood. 

To thy lov'd haunt return, my happy Muse : 
For now, behold, the joyous winter days, 
Frosty, succeed; and through the blue serene, 
For sight too fine, th" ethereal nitre flies ; 
Killing infectious damps, and the spent air 
Storing afresh with elemental life. 
Close crouds the shining atmosphere ; and binds 
Our strengthen'd bodies in its cold embrace, 
Constringent ; feeds and animates our blood ; 
Refines our spirits, through the new-strung nerves, 
In swifter sallies darting to the brain ; 
Where sits the soul, intense, collected, cool, 
Bright as the skies, and as the season keen. 

All nature feels the renovating force 
Of winter, only to the thoughtless eye 
In ruin seen. The frost-concocted glebe 
Draws in abundant vegetable soul, 
And gathers vigour for the coming year. 
A stronger glow sits on the lively cheek 
Of ruddy fire : and luculent along 
The purer rivers flow ; their sullen deeps, 
Transparent, open to the shepherd's gaze, 
And murmur hoarser at the fixing frost. 



178 WINTER. 

What art thou, frost ? and whence are thy keen stores 
Deriv'd, thou secret all invading power ! 
Whom e'en the illusive fluid cannot fly ? 
Is not thy potent energy, unseen, 
Myriads of little salts, or hook'd, or shap'd 
Like double wedges, and diffus'd immense 
Through water, earth and ether ? hence at eve, 
Steam'd eager from the red horizon round, 
With the fierce rage of Winter deep suffus'd, 
An icy gale, oft shifting, o ; er the pool 
Breathes a blue film, and in its mid career 
Arrests the bickering stream. The loosen'd ice 3 
Let down the flood, and half dissolv'd by day, 
Rustles no more ; but to the sedgy bank 
Fast grows ; or gathers round the pointed stone, 
A crystal pavement, by the breath of heaven 
Cemented firm ; till, seiz'd from shore to shore. 
The whole imprison'd river growls below. 
Loud rings thp frozen earth, and hard reflects 
A doable noise ; while, at his evening watch, 
The village dog deter? the nightly thief; 
The heifer lows ; the distant waterfall 
Swells in the breeze ; and, with the hasty tread 
Of traveller, the hollow sounding plain 
Shakes from afar. The full ethereal round, 
Infinite worlds liscl ig to the view, 
Shines out intensely keen ; and, all one cope 
Of starry glitter, glows from pole to pole. 

From pole to pole the rigid influence falls, 
Through th>* still night, incessant, heavy, strong, 
And seizes Nature fast. It freezes on ; 
Till morn, late rising o'er the drooping world, 
Lifts her pale eye unjoyous. Then appears 
The various labour of the silent night : 



WINTER. 179 

Prone from the dripping eave, and dumb cascade, 
Whose idle torrents only seem to roar, 
The pendent icicle ; the frost-work fair, 
Where transient hues, and fancied figures rise ; 
W'ide spouted o'er the hill, the frozen brook, 
A livid tract, cold gleaming on the morn ; 
The forest bent beneath the plumy wave ; 
And by the frost refin'd the whiter snow, 
Incrusted hard, and sounding to the tread 
Of early shepherd, as he pensive seeks 
His pining flock ; or from the mountain-top, 
Pleas'd with the slippery surface, swift descends. 

On blithsome frolics bent, the youthful swains, 
While every work of man is laid at rest, 
Fond o'er the river crowd, in various sport 
And revelry dissolv'd ; where mixing glad, 
Happiest of all the train ! the raptur'd boy 
Lashes the whirling top. Or, where the Rhine, 
Branch'd out, in many a long canal extends, 
From every province swarming, void of care, 
Batavia rushes forth ; and as they sweep, 
On sounding skates, a thousand different ways, 
In circling poise, swift as the winds, along, 
The then gay land is madden'd all to joy. 
Nor less the northern courts, wide o'er the snow, 
Pour a new pomp. Eager, on rapid sleds, 
Their vigorous youth in bold contention wheel 
The long-resounding course. Meantime, to raise 
The manly strife, with highly-blooming charms, 
Flush'd by the season, Scandinava's ^mes, 
Or Russia's buxom daughters, glow around. 

Pure, quick, and sportful, is the wholesome day, 
But soon elaps'd. The horizontal sun, 
Broad o'er the south, hangs at his utmost noon ; 
And, ineffectual, strikes the gelid cliff: 



180 WINTER. 

His azure gloss the mountain still maintains, 
Nor feels the feeble touch. Perhaps the vale 
Relents awhile to the reflected ray ; 
Or from the forest falls the cluster'd snow, 
Myriads of gems, that in the waving gleam 
Gay twinkle as they scatter. Thick around 
Thunders the sport of those, who with the gun, 
And dog impatient bounding at the shot, 
Worse than the Season, desolate the fields ; 
And, adding to the ruins of the year, 
Distress the footed or the feather'd game. 

But what is this ? Our infant Winter sinks, 
Divested of his grandeur, should our eye 
Astonish'd shoot into the frigid zone ; 
Where, for relentless months, continual Night 
Holds o'er the glittering waste her starry reign. 

There, through the prison of unbounded wilds, 
Barred by the hand of Nature from escape, 
Wide roams the Russian exile. Nought around 
Strikes his sad eye but deserts lost in snow ; 
And heavy-loaded groves ; and solid floods, 
That stretch, athwart the solitary vast, 
Their icy horrors to the frozen main ; 
And cheerless towns far-distant, never bless'd, 
Save when its annual course the caravan 
Bends to the golden coast of rich Cathay,* 
With news of human-kind. Yet there life glows; 
Yet cherish'd there, beneath the shining waste, 
The furry nations harbour : tipp'd with jet, 
Fair ermines, spotless as the snows they press ; 
Sables, of glossy black ; and dark-embrown'd, 
Or beauteous freak'd with many a mingled hue, 
Thousands besides, the costly pride of courts. 

* The old name for China. 



WINTER. 181 

There warm together press'd^ the trooping deer 
Sleep on the new-fall'n snows ; and, scarce his head 
Rais'd o'er the heapy wreath, the branching elk 
Lies slumbering sullen in the white abyss. 
The ruthless hunter wants nor dogs nor toils ; } 
Nor with the dread of sounding bows he drives 
The fearful flying race ; with pond'rous clubs, 
As weak against the mountain heaps they push 
Their beating breast in vain, and piteous bray, 
He lays them quivering on th' ensanguin'd snows ; 
And with loud shouts, rejoicing, bears them home. 
There through the piny-forest half absorpt, 
Rough tenant of these shades, the shapeless bear, 
With dangling ice all horrid, stalks forlorn ; 
Slow-pac'd, and sourer as the storms increase, 
He makes his bed beneath th' inclement drift. 
And, with stern patience, scorning weak complaint, 
Hardens his heart against assailing want. 

Wide o'er the spacious regions of the north, 
That see Bootes urge his tardy wain, 
A boisterous race, by frosty Caurus* pierc'd, 
Who little pleasure know, and fear no pain, 
Prolific swarm. They once relum'd the flame 
Of lost mankind in polish'd slavery sunk ; 
Drove martial horde on horde,t with dreadful sweep 
Resistless rushing o'er the enfeebled south, 
And gave the vanquish'd world another form. 

Not such the sons of Lapland : wisely they 
Despise th' insensate barbarous trade of war; 
They ask no more than simple Nature gives, 
They love their mountains, and enjoy their storing 
No false desires, no pride-created wants, 
Disturb the peaceful current of their time ; 

* The north-west wind, 

f The wandering Scythian clanv 

16 



182 WINTER. 

And though the restless ever-tortur'd maze 

Of pleasure, or ambition, bid it rage. 

Their rein-deer form their riches. These, their tents, 

Their robes, theii beds, and all their homely wealth 

Supply, their wholesome fare, and cheerful cups. 

Obsequious at their call, the docile tribe 

Yield to the sled their necks, and whirl them swill 

O'er hill and dale, heap'd into one expanse 

Of marbled snow, as far as eye can sweep, 

With a blue crust of ice unbounded glaz'd. 

By dancing meteors then, that ceaseless shake 

A waving blaze refracted o'er the heavens, 

And vivid moons, and stars that keener play 

With double lustre from the glossy waste ; 

E'en in the depth of polar night, they find 

A wondrous day : enough to light the chase, 

Or guide their daring steps to Finland fairs. 

Wish'd Spring returns ; and from the hazy south, 
While dim Aurora slowly moves before, 
The welcome sun, just verging up at first, 
By small degrees extends the swelling curve ; 
Till seen at last for gay rejoicing months, 
Still round and round, his spiral course he winds ; 
And as he nearly dips his flaming orb, 
Wheels up again, and re-ascends the sky. 
In that glad season, from the lakes and floods, 
Where pure Niemi's* fairy mountains rise, 

* M. de Maupertuis, in his book on the Figure of the Earth, 
after having described the beautiful lake and mountain of Nienri, 
in Lapland, says, " From this height we had opportunity several 
times to see those vapours rise from the lake which the people of 
the country call Haltios, and which they deem to be the guardian 
spirits of the mountains. We had been frighted with stories of 
bears that haunted this place, but saw none. It seemed rather 
9 place of resort for fairies and genii, than bears." 



WINTER. 183 

And, fring'd with roses, Tenglio* rolls his stream, 

They draw the copious fry. With these, at eve, 

They, cheerful loaded, to their tents repair ; 

Where, all day long in useful cares employ'd, 

Their kind unblemished wives the fire prepare. 

Thrice happy race ! by poverty secur'd 

From legal plunder and rapacious power : 

In whom fell interest never yet has sown 

The seeds of vice : whose spotless swains ne'er knew 

Injurious deed ; nor, blasted by the breath 

Of faithless love, their blooming daughters wo. 

Still pressing on beyond Tornea's lake, 

And Hecla flaming through a waste of snow, 

And furthest Greenland, to the pole itself, 

Where, failing gradual, life at length goes out, 

The Muse expands her solitary flight ; 

And, hovering o'er the wild stupendous scene. 

Beholds new seas beneath another sky.t 

Thron'd in his palace of cerulean ice, 

Here Winter holds his unrejoicing court : 

And through his airy hall the loud misrule 

Of driving tempest is for ever heard : 

Here the grim tyrant meditates his wrath ; 

Here arms his winds with all-subduing frost ; 

Moulds his fierce hail, and treasures up his snows, 

With which he now oppresses half the globe 

Thence, winding eastward to the Tartar's coast, 
She sweeps the howling margin of the main ; 
Where undissolving, from the first of time, 
Snows swell on snows amazing to the sky ; 
And icy mountains high on mountains pil'd, 

* The same author observes, " I was surprised to see upon the 
banks of this river (the Tenglio) roses of as lively a red as any 
that are in our gardens." 

t The other hemisphere. 



184 WINTER. 

Seem to the shivering sailor from afar, 
Shapeless and white, an atmosphere of clouds. 
Projected huge, and horrid, o'er the surge, 
Alps frown on Alps ; or rushing hideous down, 
As if old chaos was again retum'd, 
Wide-rend the deep, and shake the solid pole. 
Ocean itself no longer can resist 
The binding fury ; but, in all its rage 
Of tempest taken by the boundless frost, 
Is many a fathom to the bottom chain'd, 
And bid to roar no more : a bleak expanse, 
Shagg'd o'er with wavy rocks, cheerless, and void 
Of every life, that from the dreary months 
Flies conscious southward. Miserable they ! 
Who, here entangled in the gathering ice, 
Take their last look of the descending sun ; 
While, full of death, and fierce with tenfold frost, 
The long, long night, incumbent o'er their heads, 
Falls horrible. Such was the Briton's* fate, 
As with first prow, (what have not Briton's dar'd r) 
He for the passage sought, attempted since 
So much in vain, and seeming to be shut 
By jealous Nature with eternal bars. 
In these fell regions, in Arzina caught, 
And to the stony deep his idle ship 
Immediate seal 'd, he with his hapless crew, 
Each full exerted at his several task, 
Froze into statues ; to the cordage glued 
The sailor, and the pilot to the helm. [stream 

Hard by these shores, where scarce his freezing 
Rolls the wild Oby, live the last of men ; 
And half enliven'd by the distant sun, 
That rears and ripens man, as w T ell as plants, 

* Sir Hugh Willoughby, sent by Queen Elizabeth to discover 
the north-east passage. 



WINTER. 185 

Here human Nature wears its rudest form. 
Deep from the piercing season sunk in caves, 
Here by dull fires, and with unjoyous cheer, 
They waste the tedious gloom. Immers'd in furs, 
Doz^ the gross race. Nor sprightly jest, nor song, 
Nor tenderness they know ; nor aught of life, 
Beyond the kindred bears that stalk without. 
Till morn at length, her roses drooping all, 
Sheds a long twilight brightening o'er their fields, 
And calls the quiver'd savage to the chase. 

What cannot active government perform, [shores, 
New-moulding man ? Wide-stretching from these 
A people savage from remotest time, 
A huge neglected empire, one vast mind, 
By heaven inspir'd, from Gothic darkness call'd. 
Immortal Peter ! first of monarchs ! he 
His stubborn country tam'd, her rocks, her fens. 
Her floods, her seas, her ill-submitting sons ; 
And while the fierce barbarian he subdued, 
To more exalted soul he rais'd the Man. 

Ye shades of ancient heroes ! ye who toil'd 
Through long successive ages to build up 
A labouring plan of state, behold at once 
The wonder done ! behold the matchless prince ! 
Who left his native throne, where reign'd till then 
A mighty shadow of unreal power ; 
Who greatly spurn'd the slothful pomp of courts ; 
And roaming every land, in every port 
His sceptre laid aside, with glorious hand 
Unwearied, plying the mechanic tool, 
Gather'd the seeds of trade, of useful arts, 
Of civil wisdom, and of martial skill. 
Charg'd with the stores of Europe, home he goes ! 
Then cities rise amid th' illumin'd waste ; 
O'er joyless deserts smiles the rural reign[; 
16* 



186 WINTER. 

Far-distant flood to flood is social join'd; 
Th' astonish'd Euxine hears the Baltic roar; 
Proud navies ride on seas that never foam'd 
With daring keel before; and armies stretch 
Each way their dazzling files, repressing here 
The frantic Alexander of the north, 
And awing there stern Othman's shrinking sons; 
Sloth flies the land, and Ignorance, and Vice, 
Of old dishonour proud : it glows around, 
Taught by the royal hand that rous'd the whole, 
One scene of arts, of arms, of rising trade : 
For what his wisdom plann'd, and power enforc'd, 
Mere potent still, his great example show'd. 

Muttering, the winds at eve, with blunted point, 
Blow hollow blustering from the south. Subdued, 
The frost resolves into a trickling thaw. 
Spotted the mountains shine ; loose sleet descends 
And floods the country round. The rivers swell, 
Of bonds impatient. Sudden from the hills, 
O'er rocks and woods, in broad brown cataracts, 
A thousand snow-fed torrents shoot at once ; 
And, where they rush, the wide-resounding plain 
Is left one slimy waste. Those sullen seas, 
That vvash'd th' ungenial pole, will rest no more 
Beneath the shackles of the mighty north ; 
But, rousing all their waves, resistless heave. 
And hark ! the lengthening roar continuous runs 
Athwart the rifled deep : at once it bursts, 
And piles a thousand mountains to the clouds. 

HI fares the bark with trembling wretches charg d 
That, tost amid the floating fragments, moors 
Beneath the shelter of an icy isle, 
AVhile night o'erwhelms the sea, and horror looks 
More horrible. Can human force endure 
Th' assembled mischiefs that besiege them round 



WINTER, 1ST 

Heart gnawing hunger, fainting weariness, 

The roar of winds and waves, the crush of ice. 

Now ceasing, now renew'd with louder rage, 

And in dire echoes bellowing round the main. 

More to embroil the deep, Leviathan 

And his unwieldy train, in dreadful sport, 

Tempest the loosen'd brine ; while through the gloom, 

Far, from the bleak inhospitable shore, 

Loading the winds, is heard the hungry howl 

Of famisb'd monsters, there awaiting wrecks. 

Yet Providence, that ever-waking eye '. 

Looks down with pity on the feeble toil 

Of mortals lost to hope, and lights them safe, 

Through all this dreary labyrinth of fate. 

'Tis done ! dread Winter spreads his latest glooms, 
And reigns tremendous o'er the conquer'd year. 
How dead the vegetable kingdom lies ! 
How dumb the tuneful ! horror wide extends 
His desolate domain. Behold, fond man ! 
See here thy pictur'd life ; pass some few years, 
Thy flowering Spring, thy Summer's ardent strength. 
Thy sober Autumn fading into age. 
And pale concluding Winter comes at last, 
And shuts the scene. Ah ! whither now are fled 
Those dreams of greatness ? those unsolid hopes 
Of happiness ? those longings after fame ? 
Those restless cares ? those busy bustling days ? 
Those gay-spent, festive nights ? those veering thoughts, 
Lost between good and ill, that shar'd thy life ? 
All now are vanish'd ! Virtue sole survives, 
Immortal never-failing friend of Man, 
His guide to happiness on high. And see ! 
'Tis come, the glorious morn ! the second birth 
Of heaven and earth ! awakening Nature hears 
The new-creating word, and starts to life. 



1S8 WINTER. 

In every heighten'd form ; from pain and death 
For ever free. The great eternal scheme, 
Involving all, and in a perfect whole 
Uniting, as the prospect wider spreads, 
To reason's eye refin'd clears up apace. 

Ye vainly wise ! ye blind presumptuous ! now, 
Confounded in the dust, adore that Power, 
And Wisdom oft arraign'd : see now the cause, 
Why unassuming worth in secret liv'd, 
And died, neglected : why the good man's share 
In life was gall and bitterness of soul : 
Why the lone widow and her orphans pin'd 
In starving solitude ; while luxury, 
In palaces, lay straining her low thought, 
To form unreal wants : why heaven-born truth, 
And moderation fair, wore the red marks 
Of superstition's scourge : why licens'd pain, 
That cruel spoiler, that embosom'd foe, 
Embitter'd all our bliss. Ye good distress'd ! 
Ye noble few ! who here unbending stand 
Beneath life's pressure, yet bear up awhile, 
And what your bounded view, which only saw 
A little part, deem'd evil is no more : 
The storms of Wintry time will quickly pass. 
And one unbounded Spring encircle all. 




Breathe your still Songr into the reaper's heart. 

Hymn . 



A HYMN 



These, as they change, Almighty Father ! these 
Are but the varied God. The rolling year 
Is full of Thee. Forth in the pleasing Spring 
Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love. 
Wide flush the fields ; the softening air is balm ; 
Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles: 
And every sense, and every heart is joy. 
Then comes thy glory in the Summer-months, 
With light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun 
Shoots full perfection. through the swelling year: 
And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks ; 
And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, 
By brooks ami groves, in hollow-whispering gale?. 
Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfin'd, 
And spreads a common feast for all that lives. 
In Winter, awful Thou ! with clouds and storms 
Around Thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest roll'd, 
Majestic darkness ! on the whirlwind's wing, 
Riding sublime, Thou bidst the world adore, 
And humblest Nature with thy northern blast. 

Mysterious round ! what skill, what force divine, 
Deep felt, in these appear! a simple train, 
Yet so delightful mix'd, with such kind art 
Such beauty and beneficence combin'd ; 
Shade, unperceiv'd, so softening into shade ; 
And all so forming an harmonious whole ; 
That, as they still succeed, they ravish still. 
But wandering oft, with brute unconscious gaze, 
Man marks not Thee ; marks not the mighty hand, 



190 A HYMN. 

That, ever-busy, wheels the silent spheres ; 
Works in the secret deep ; shoots, steaming, thence 
The fair profusion that o'erspreads the Spring : 
Flings from the sun direct the flaming day ; 
Feeds every creature ; hurls the tempest forth ; 
And, as on earth this grateful change revolves, 
With transport touches all the springs of life. 

Nature, attend ! join every living soul. 
Beneath the spacious temple of the sky, 
In adoration join ; and, ardent, raise 
One general song ! To Him, ye vocal gales, 
Breathe soft ; whose Spirit in your freshness breathes 
Oh, talk of Him in solitary glooms ! 
Where, o'er the rock, the scarcely waving pine 
Fills the brown shade with a religious awe. 
And ye, whose bolder note is heard afar, 
Who shake th' astonish'd world, lift high to heave 
Th' impetuous song, and say from whom you ragt 
His praise, ye brooks, attune, } r e trembling rills; 
And let me catch it as I muse along. 
Ye headlong torrents, rapid, and profound ; 
Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze 
Along the vale ; and thou, majestic main, 
A secret world of wonders in thyself, 
Sound His stupendous praise ; whose greater voice 
Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall. 
Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers. 
In mingled clouds to Him ; whose sun exalts, 
Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil pain 
Ye forests bend, ye harvests wave, to Him ; 
Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart, 
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon. 
Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep 
Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams, 
Ye constellations, while your angels strike, 



A HYMff. 191 

Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre. 

Great source of day ! best image here below 

Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide, 

From world to world, the vital ocean round ; 

On Nature write with every beam His praise. 

The thunder rolls : be hush'd the prostrate world ; 

While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn. 

Bleat out afresh, ye hills : ye mossy rocks, 

Retain the sound : the broad responsive low, 

Ye valleys, raise ; for the Great Shepherd reigns j 

And his unsunering kingdom yet will come. 

Ye woodlands all, awake : a boundless song 
Burst from the groves ! and when the restless day, 
Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep, 
Sweetest of birds . sweet Philomela, charm 
The listening shades, and teach the night His praise. 
Ye chief, for whom the, whole creation smiles, 
At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all, 
Crown the great hymn ! in swarming cities vast, 
Assembled men, to the deep organ join 
The long resounding voice, oft-breaking clear, 
At solemn pauses, through the swelling bass ; 
And, as each mingling flame increases each, 
In one united ardour rise to heaven. 
Or if you rather choose the rural shade, 
And find a fane in every sacred grove ; 
There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay, 
The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre, 
Still sing the God of Seasons, as they roll ! — 
For me, when I forget the darling theme, 
Whether the blossom blows, the summer-ray 
Russets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams, 
Or Winter rises in the blackening east ; 
Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more, 
And, dead, to fity, forget my heart to beat. 



192 A HYMN. 

Should fale command me to the furthest verge 
Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes. 
Rivers unknown to song ; where first the sun 
Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam 
Flames on th' Atlantic isles ; 'tis nought to me : 
Since God is ever present, ever felt, 
In the void waste as in the city full ; 
And where He vital breathes there must be joy. 
When e'en at last the solemn hour shall come, 
And wing my mystic flight to future worlds, 
1 cheerful will obey ; there, with new powers, 
Will rising wonders sing : I cannot go 
Where universal Love not smiles around, 
Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns : 
From seeming Evil still educing Good, 
And better thence again, and better still. 
In infinite progression. But I lose 
Myself in Him, in Light ineffable ! 
Come then, expressive Silence, muse His praise. 



THE END. 



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